


Captain America Likes Boys (and More Obvious Headlines)

by WinterSabbath



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (Not) Another Stucky Big Bang 2020, Avengers Family, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Humor, Journalist Bucky Barnes, Light Angst, M/M, NASBB 2020, Oblivious Bucky, Pining, Shrunkyclunks, Supportive Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27472162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterSabbath/pseuds/WinterSabbath
Summary: “I’m gonna live with a bunch of super-powered people for a month, after which I’m supposed to write about whether they’re good enough at their job or not! What if they actually turn out to be villains?” he gasped. “They’ll torture me to keep me quiet and then—!”Sam snorted. “Okay, I really don’t think they’re villains."“What if I say theyarequalified, then a month later they blow up the moon?”In which Bucky Barnes, a journalist forThe New York Times, is assigned to write a detailed article on the Avengers. To do this, he lives with them for one month.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 161
Kudos: 607
Collections: Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020





	1. Bucky Barnes: Journalist and Part-Time Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TRAILER](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wj07C2TmY3M) for this fic was made by the amazing [amethystkrystal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amethystkrystal). She made the banner too!!
> 
> Beta read by [Crash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitforhightide)

**__ **

**_April_ _24, 2012_ **

If that damned train had been on time, Bucky would not be hiding behind a bench.

Of course, he really couldn’t hope for the train to arrive anytime soon. There was, after all, a giant _spider-bot_ wreaking havoc right before him, stepping across the train tracks and everything. Why the spider was in the train station, he didn’t even want to know.

There was another blast as the spider-bot burned a hole through the station, and then Iron man was shooting one of the spider’s legs. Bucky couldn’t help but sigh. His Editor-in-Chief was going to be so disappointed he was once again late for the third time this week. (The first two times had been his fault for not waking up on time, sure, but this third time was just ridiculous).

As the Avengers attacked the spider’s legs separately, the thing began to wobble. Bucky realized, way too late, just how _near_ the spider was to where he was hiding. The spider-bot toppled over, and the thought flashing through Bucky’s mind was, _Ah shit, I’m gonna die_.

Then, he was shoved unceremoniously to the side and covered by a familiar shield. The man holding the shield was practically _lying on top of him_.

“Jesus fuck,” Bucky muttered as Captain America himself blocked the spider’s impact with his shield. Iron Man blasted the spider-bot’s head, and the thing looked like it was as dead as it could get.

“Oh, wow,” Captain America said as he stood up, sliding his arm through his shield. He had his cowl on, staring at Bucky a bit too long before stretching out his arm in an offer of support. “You alright?”

Bucky took the hand and pulled himself to his feet, dusting off some of the dirt on his clothes. “I’m alive now, yeah. Might be a different story once my EIC rips me a new one. I’m late for work.”

Bucky had no idea why he just told Captain America that. All he asked was a simple yes or no question, and Bucky really had to say _I’m late for work_. Why couldn’t he be a normal person and just say _I’m alright, thanks_?

It took a lot in him to resist the urge to slam his head on the deformed pole next to him.

Captain America looked like he didn’t know whether he should laugh or not. “They won’t fire you, will they?”

“Uh...” Bucky blinked. “I hope not?” 

There was a pause, and then the Captain pulled off his cowl, revealing messy blond hair and sweat. He gave a sheepish smile as he motioned to the destroyed tracks. “I’m sad to say you won’t be able to take the subway today.”

Bucky snorted at that. “Yeah, no shit.” He had no idea how he was going to get to work. He could take a cab, but they were so damn expensive.

“Do you have a car? Maybe Tony could give you a lift to your place of work.”

It took Bucky a moment to realize he was talking about _Tony Stark_. Apparently, Tony Stark heard what Captain America said, turning to the both of them just as he was taking a scan of the entire place. His faceplate lifted off. “No can do, Cap. I was supposed to be in Malibu an hour ago.” Then, he grinned as though he had the grandest idea. “You can give the guy a ride on your motorcycle.”

Captain America looked back at Bucky, still smiling, but shyer this time. “You okay with that?”

What choice did Bucky have anyway? He didn’t exactly want to get _fired_ if he didn’t show up today.

Bucky nodded, laughing awkwardly. “Guess I could cross ‘riding a motorcycle with Captain America’ off my bucket list.”

The Captain smiled at the horrible—truly horrible—joke. “Please, call me Steve.”

“Bucky,” Bucky said, “Me. I’m Bucky.”

And that’s how Bucky found himself riding on the back of _Captain America’s_ motorcycle. He was pretty sure a lot of people were giving him the strangest looks. He couldn’t blame them. This situation was absurd.

He wasn’t wearing a helmet; apparently Steve didn’t really see helmets as a necessity, so he never bothered to bring one around. Hugging Steve Rogers from behind would go down as one of the weirdest things Bucky ever experienced in his life.

“I can talk your boss into letting you off the hook this time,” Steve said just as they pulled up in front of the _New York Times_ building.

“That would make one hell of a story,” Bucky huffed, clambering onto the pavement. “I think I’ll be fine. Thanks, by the way. I know this is probably really weird for you...”

“No problem. It’s what I do.” Steve shrugged. Because of course it was. He was _Captain America_.

“Well, you probably have other heroic things to do so...” Bucky pointed a thumb at the door. “I’ll get going.”

“If you call paperwork heroic, sure,” Steve laughed. “I’ll leave you to it. Good luck with your boss!”

“Good luck with your paperwork!” Bucky yelled back as the motorcycle drove off, groaning soon after. Was he really trying to sound cool around Captain America?

* * *

As it turned out, everyone in the office saw Bucky being dropped off by Steve, and they were all over him the moment he stepped out of the elevator to go to his desk.

“What were you doing with _Steve Rogers?_ ”

“You were hugging him!”

“Barnes, since when were you friends with Captain America?”

There were way too many unnecessary questions coming from people he barely even _knew_.

“I was a civilian in need,” Bucky said loudly to stop them from bombarding him with more questions. “Seriously. That’s it. He was being kind.”

As he sat down on his desk, the talking still didn’t stop. He slammed his head on the table. He probably should’ve seen this coming and should’ve told Steve to drop him off at the block before.

A bunch of papers were dropped next to him, and he looked up to see his only real friend in this place, Killian, leaning on the divider. “Regina wants to see you.”

Fuck.

Regina was Bucky’s boss, and she was scary as hell. Standing up, Bucky began to regret not taking Steve up on the offer to talk to his boss. He pursed his lips, glancing at Killian. “Does she look mad?”

“She always looks mad, mate,” said Killian in that thick British accent of his. He rolled his eyes. “You’ll be fine. She doesn’t seem too keen on killing you just yet.”

“That’s reassuring,” Bucky muttered. He walked towards the staircase, avoiding anyone who looked like they wanted to ask about Steve.

Regina was reading a folder when he knocked and entered. She hardly even looked up to acknowledge him, and so he decided to take matters into his own hands. “I know I was late three times this week, but today really wasn’t my fault, I swear. Captain America can testify for me.”

“Barnes,” Regina set the folder down and clasped her hands together on her desk, “I don’t care.”

Bucky stared.

She sighed and leaned back. “Take a seat. I need to talk to you about something else. It’s actually quite fitting after today.”

Reluctantly, Bucky sat down. He shifted uneasily. “So I’m not getting fired?”

She ignored that question, opting instead to hand over the folder she had been going through just moments ago. “We have a major story, and since you’re one of our best writers despite your frequent tardiness, we decided you would be best suited for this assignment.”

“How major is it?”

“As you know, the Avengers are a new team, and the general public is still on the fence about whether or not they could be trusted.” Bucky nodded in agreement, though he was still unsure of the point in all of this. She smiled in the least genuine way possible. “That’s where you come in.”

* * *

The folder stared back at Bucky dauntingly. Regina had given it to him and told him to go home and think it through. All that was really in the folder was a contract stating he was not allowed to disclose anything regarding the Avengers during the month he was with them, and confidential information such as real identities could not be spilled either. He had to stick to assessing their qualifications and their ability to work as a team.

“Seriously, it can’t be that bad,” Sam, Bucky’s best friend, was telling him. He came over the moment Bucky told him the news.

“I’m going to die,” was all Bucky could muster, still staring at the file, horrified. “I’m going to die, but I’m still going to do it because the pay is _great_.” He swallowed. “But I’ll die.” Bucky fell face first into the couch, burying his face in the cushion. “You mind writing my eulogy?”

“Barnes, get up, you aren’t gonna die. If you were gonna die, it would’ve been in the station this morning. Or when you went to the active warzone in Afghanistan. Or when you were right in the epicenter of that alien invasion. Not over this. Though I’m still not sure what _this_ really is.” Bucky lifted his head up to see Sam frowning at him. “All you said was that you’re being asked to live with the Avengers for a month.”

“That’s explanation enough!” Bucky yelled, sitting back up. He buried his face in his hands. “I’m gonna live with a bunch of superpowered people for a month, after which I’m supposed to write about whether they’re good enough at their job or not! What if they actually turn out to be villains?” he gasped. “They’ll torture me to keep me quiet and then—!”

Sam snorted. “Okay, I really don’t think they’re villains.” He popped open a can of soda. “I’m surprised they even allowed the media into their personal lives.”

“Well, if they don’t, the government might shut them down. I don’t know.” To be honest, when Regina had been briefing him on the whole legal thing and why it was necessary, Bucky had hardly been paying attention. He understood enough to know what he was supposed to write about, at least. “What if I say they _are_ qualified, then a month later they blow up the moon?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “Can they actually do that?”

Bucky threw his hands up in the air. “That’s not the point!”

“Honestly, if you’re so scared, you could just _not_ take the job. I mean, you’ve got the option not to, right?”

Bucky did. But...

“The pay is great, I’m telling you. I can probably take a vacation after this. I’ll go to Maldives or something.”

“So you’re taking the job.”

Bucky eyed the folder and nodded sadly. “I’m taking the job.”

* * *

Sam had left an hour ago, and instead of sleeping, Bucky decided to read up on the Avengers. If he was going to be living with these people, he should at least know something about them.

He barely knew them, apart from their names.

He typed in _Avengers_ into Google and in came their Wikipedia page, and then several articles about the subway mishap this morning.

Then he saw a picture of himself.

“What the fuck?” Bucky muttered as his cursor hovered over the article. Well, it wasn’t _his_ face, exactly. It was a picture of him riding Steve’s motorcycle. Honestly, he shouldn’t be that surprised this managed to make its way on some gossip website.

**_Captain America spotted giving a mysterious stranger a ride to_ ** **The New York Times** **_building_ **

Oh, so he was a _mysterious stranger_ now, it seemed.

The article didn’t really say anything horrible. Though it did attach tweets from fans of the Avengers who were saying things from _aw, Cap’s such a sweetheart_ right up to _holy shit they look so cute_.

Bucky had no idea how his life was real right now. It probably wasn’t, right? This was all just one ridiculous dream that he was going to wake up from.

Feeling like he’d already read enough and could put off the research tomorrow, he shut his laptop and made a mental list of things he needed to do tomorrow.

He was going to go to work, sign a bunch of things, and then go home and pack his clothes.

The day after that, he was going to live in Stark Tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there are minor Once Upon A Time character cameos in this fic
> 
> Updates will come every day until the end of the week! Let me know what you guys think!!


	2. Journalism Hazards a.k.a Steve Rogers

**_April 27, 2012 - Day 1_ **

It was most definitely not a dream, Bucky thought as the black Audi pulled up in front of him. The driver stepped out and grabbed Bucky’s luggage, giving him a small greeting. “Morning. I’m Happy.”

“Morning.”

Happy went over to the back to throw Bucky’s luggage in the car’s trunk.

“Thanks,” Bucky mumbled as Happy opened the door for him.

“No problem.” Happy smiled and shut the door.

The car ride was silent, seeing as Happy wasn’t a talkative man, and Bucky was still too shocked to hold a normal conversation. As they drove towards Stark Tower, he tried to recall all the information he had crammed into his head yesterday. Not that there was much information available. Honestly, the only one who had any sort of public profile were, as expected, Tony Stark and Captain America. Everyone else was a mystery, and Bucky could see why a lot of people were dubious about their abilities.

There were six Avengers. Steve Rogers or Captain America. Tony Stark or Iron Man. Bruce Banner or the Hulk. Black Widow and Hawkeye whose names were not disclosed to the public. Then there was Thor. A literal god.

And they were sort of led by Nick Fury (but not on the field). They were affiliated with SHIELD, but their funds came from Stark.

To summarize: Tony Stark went missing for three months and came back as Iron Man. The Hulk only appeared every once in a while in a fit of rage. No one knew what Black Widow or Hawkeye’s real names were. Thor popped up every now and then, jumping back and forth between Earth and Asgard. Steve Rogers was a successful super soldier experiment back in the 1940s who got himself trapped in ice, then proceeded to wake up decades later with all his friends dead.

Bucky felt bad for Steve, honestly. That must’ve been really hard, not knowing anyone in a whole new century.

Just as Bucky was recalling a bunch of their team missions (that the public knew of), the car drove into Stark Tower’s parking lot (it looked like a _private_ parking lot), and Happy was pulling up in front of an elevator and stepping out of the car to get Bucky’s bag.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” a voice said from nowhere. Bucky did not scream. He did not. He may have jumped a bit too high for his liking, but he did _not_ scream.

“Don’t panic, it’s just JARVIS,” Happy said as he set Bucky’s bag on the ground.

Bucky looked at the elevator with wide eyes. “Is that—is that _normal_?”

“Yes, I am,” said the voice again. Why was this Bucky’s life? “I run the entirety of Stark Tower and several other places that Sir owns.”

“I see...” Bucky shouldn’t really be surprised anymore given the fact that he was about to meet _superheroes_ , but he was. The thing from the speakers was _sentient_. That was some next level sci-fi he never thought he’d live to see. 

The elevator opened, and Happy nudged Bucky inside, not following him. “I have somewhere else to be. Don’t worry, Pepper’s going to be there when you get up. God knows Tony can be trusted with getting you settled in.”

Bucky gave him an awkward smile as the doors closed.

JARVIS didn’t try speaking to Bucky on the way up, thankfully. He leaned on his luggage, tapping his foot nervously as the numbers ascended. There were a _lot_ of numbers, he realized. Which made sense, considering just how big Stark Tower was. To think someone actually lived here, though...

“Welcome to the communal floor, Mr. Barnes,” JARVIS said as the doors slid open.

Pepper Potts was, indeed, there. Along with the rest of the Avengers, except for Thor. They were standing side by side, some welcoming and the others apprehensive.

As Pepper opened her mouth to speak, she was quickly interrupted by Steve. “I know you!” he exclaimed, face lighting up.

“Didn’t I already show you a picture of the guy?” Tony Stark raised an eyebrow at Steve. “You didn’t say anything then.”

“I was out for a jog when you showed the others,” Steve said, “Didn’t really care anyway. Plus, you said his name was James Barnes.” He turned back to Bucky. “I thought your name was Bucky?”

_Captain America remembered his name_. Bucky had to be on drugs. He _had_ to be. There was no other explanation.

“It is. I mean, Bucky’s a nickname. From Buchanan. Which is my middle name.” Everyone was staring at him. Bucky wanted the ground to swallow him up. “James is my first name. James Buchanan Barnes.” He hated his name so damn much. It sounded ridiculous.

Steve perked up. “Like the president?”

“That’s the one.” If he had known he’d be introducing himself to Captain America one day, Bucky would’ve told his parents to think of another goddamned name. _James Buchanan_ , honestly. He sounded like a try-hard patriot.

“That’s nice,” Steve said, probably for lack of better words. Bucky didn’t blame him.

Pepper glanced between the two of them and then settled back at Bucky with a smile. “We would just like to go over some things with you before we get you settled on your floor, if that’s alright?”

“Oh, sure, I—” Bucky paused. “—wait, my _floor?_ ”

“Yep, guest floor. It’s got a coffee maker and everything,” Tony grinned, “Although Pep insists you come down to the communal floor more often to—what was the reason for that again?”

“Observe team dynamics,” Bruce Banner replied.

The other two Avengers whose names he still did not know were staring at him warily. Widow looked like she was planning his murder, and Hawkeye was just... he was just staring, really, looking more curious, if anything.

“Oh, okay,” was all Bucky managed. His own _floor_ , honestly.

“Alright,” Pepper said. “So, aside from the terms and conditions in the contract and NDA regarding the details of team missions, there are some things that the team would like you to respect. You aren’t legally obligated to do so, but we’d appreciate a bit of decency, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky couldn’t help but bristle a bit at that. Then again, he really didn’t blame them for thinking he had no boundaries. Journalists weren’t exactly known for keeping things on the downlow. But no self-respecting one was going to _gossip_. Bucky considered himself to be a self-respecting journalist.

Regardless, he just gave her a small smile. “I’m just here to write about your qualifications to work on the battlefield, not start gossiping about your personal life.”

“Yes, well, it can’t be helped, sometimes.” Pepper looked like she understood, though, so that was good. “We’ve decided that each member will be making at least one boundary clear with you, but if you do feel like it is necessary to cross that boundary in order to write your article... we can’t really stop you on that front.”

“I’ll start,” Tony piped up. “No workshop access. Zero. Nada. Non-negotiable.”

“Tony,” Pepper sighed.

“It’s alright,” Bucky said before she told him off. “It’s confidential Stark Industries stuff. I get it.”

Tony smiled, throwing his hands in the air. “See!”

“No asking about my name,” Widow said. Expected.

Hawkeye spoke up next. “You can call me Clint, but no asking about my last name. But no using Clint in the article!” That first part was not expected, but it _was_ appreciated.

Bucky nodded in agreement. So far, these requests were rather tame.

“Don’t make me angry,” Bruce said, quiet. He grimaced. “It’s not really for me.” It was for Bucky. Got it. Bucky had _no_ intentions of accidentally releasing the Hulk. He would very much like to leave this place alive and in one piece, thank you very much.

“Thor would prefer you not to ask him about Loki,” Bruce then added. That one... that one Bucky wasn’t so sure he could steer completely clear of, but he just tilted his head in acknowledgement. He took note of it, anyway.

Steve pursed his lips, his hands tucked into his pockets. “I didn’t actually have any requests, but they insisted I make one.” He shrugged. “I don’t really like being interrupted when I’m boxing.”

“He means he doesn’t like being interrupted when he’s beating the shit out of my state of the art punching bags,” Tony translated.

Bucky lifted his eyebrows, but didn’t question it. Everyone had their reasons. “Yeah, sure, I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Cap has volunteered to show you to your floor!” Tony said after a beat. Everyone turned to look at him in confusion.

Steve blinked. “I did?” Tony gave him a look and he straightened up. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. Your floor number is...”

“84,” Tony supplied.

“Floor 84, yes.” Steve paused and then began to walk toward Bucky. He even grabbed Bucky’s bag, which all the more cemented Bucky’s theory of him being on drugs. Or dreaming. This was _surreal_.

Bucky followed Steve back to the elevator, well aware of everyone staring at them. As soon as they were inside, Steve placed the luggage between them and ran a hand through his hair.

“Your boss didn’t fire you, then?”

_How did he even remember anything Bucky said?_ “Nope. She was actually pretty indifferent about it. Probably because she saw you. _Everyone_ saw you.”

Steve frowned. “Did they give you any trouble or—?”

“Just a bunch of questions,” Bucky waved off. “To be expected. I mean, it’s not often you see a stranger hitching a ride with Captain America, you know?”

“Tony gives people lifts all the time,” Steve said with a furrow to his brow.

“Well, he carries people to safety, not to their place of work,” Bucky pointed out just as the elevator dinged. “He does it to save their life.”

“I saved your life too,” Steve huffed, pulling Bucky’s luggage along. Bucky followed him onto the floor, and they stopped right beside the elevator.

“Well, that too.” Bucky resisted the urge to say he was no _damsel in distress_ or some shit like that. “But you also gave me a ride. Not that I’m complaining. I’m just saying, some people find it weird.”

Steve tilted his head. “Did you find it weird?”

“Surreal, maybe. Everything is surreal. This right now? This is surreal.” Bucky gestured at the vast living room that he was meant to live in. Alone. “I’m still not convinced this isn’t one big dream.”

Steve laughed. “Well, if it helps, I feel that way sometimes too. After 70 years in a coma, I still sometimes doubt I’m not still in it.”

The smile immediately fell off Bucky’s face. “Oh, shit. Wait, no, I didn’t mean—"

Steve was still smiling though, a bit lighter this time. “It’s fine. I don’t mean to be a downer or anything.”

“Right.” Bucky looked around the floor. “This is all mine, huh?”

“Yeah. Tony goes overboard sometimes. You can technically buy anything short of Stark Industries itself, if you want. He’s generous.” Steve pointed at the ceiling. “Just ask JARVIS.”

“I would be happy to help,” came JARVIS’ voice.

Bucky squinted at the ceiling. “Can you see me everywhere?”

“As a security measure, I can, but files are deleted after 24 hours unless Sir says otherwise. However, if you wish to not have a camera installed, you may ask Sir to shut it down. This measure is mostly done for your own safety.”

Bucky looked back at Steve. “Do you have cameras installed in yours?”

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “Anything can happen to you, so it’s best to have it installed, just in case you go missing.” His eyes widened, as did Bucky’s. “Not that you aren’t safe here, I just mean... it’s... safety measures.”

“But no one can view the files, right? Except Tony...”

“Tony wouldn’t.”

“You trust him just like that?”

“I’ve gotta. We’re a team, we need to trust each other.”

Bucky didn’t comment on that. Either Steve was way too trustworthy or he was trying to feed Bucky bullshit for the article.

“Anyway,” Steve continued, “The team usually has movie night every Friday.” That was today. Bucky had no idea why Steve was telling him this. “You should come.”

What?

“I don’t want to intrude.”

Steve scrunched his nose. “You won’t! It’ll be fun. We can all be friends and everything.”

This man had never had a single bad encounter with the media, did he? Bucky shook his head. “Your team might not share the same sentiment. I’m here to observe, remember?”

“You don’t plan to be friends with us?” Steve frowned; it almost looked like a _pout_. What the actual fucking hell?

“Steve, I’m a journalist. This is supposed to be a professional thing.” Which was kind of sad, honestly, but Bucky tried not to dwell on it. He only had to be here for a month.

Steve’s frown deepened. He let go of the luggage handle, looking at the floor. “Can’t speak for everyone, but I’d want to be friends. But, uh, if you want to keep it professional, you can always think of it as going to movie night to observe how we are as a team?”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “I guess I could.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something else, but then an alarm blared _really_ loudly. Bucky was pretty sure he was going to be deaf. He winced, pressing his hands to his ears. “The fuck?”

Steve grimaced, looking up. “JARVIS, mute. I got the memo.” He glanced back at Bucky. “Sorry, that was the Avengers alarm.” He paused, his stance shifting as he hurriedly motioned at the elevator. “Which means I have to go.”

Bucky took a step back, eyes wide. “Yeah, sure, ‘course.”

“I’ll see you tonight?” Steve gave him a small smile. Bucky couldn’t really do anything else but nod. Steve pressed something into his ear, probably an earpiece, and said, “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

Bucky expected him to go into the elevator, but the guy just ran to the window, slid it open, _and then he jumped out_. From floor 84. _84 floors from the ground_ and he just _jumped out_.

“Holy shit,” Bucky whispered, rushing over to the window to peer down at Steve. To his surprise, red and gold shot up in front of him, and Iron Man was carrying Captain America. Except Steve didn’t bother suiting up. All he had was his shield, waving at Bucky with a grin from where he dangled in Iron Man’s grip.

“Does he do that often?” Bucky found himself asking no one in particular.

“The Captain does have a penchant for jumping out of high areas,” JARVIS replied. Bucky startled a bit. He wasn’t ever going to get used to that.

He figured he might as well watch a live feed of whatever they were fighting. “Uh, JARVIS?” he asked unsurely, walking over to the TV.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“Call me Bucky,” Bucky said, then added: “Can you show me a live feed of the fight? Is that something you can do?”

There was a pause, then the TV flickered and Bucky was watching the fight in first person. A gauntlet lifted in front of the camera and he blinked. “Is this... is this through Iron Man’s helmet?”

“Sir has authorized me to give you access to his lenses for this particular fight, since it’s considered a low level threat.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky whispered.

He could hear the fight going on around them, and JARVIS also tapped into the communication devices. He could not believe what he was seeing as he sat down on the couch, staring at the TV.

“ _Hawkeye, I need an assist,”_ Steve’s voice came through the speakers. Bucky could see him in front of Tony, although he was a bit far. And he was completely surrounded by... humanoid robots was what it looked like, though Bucky wasn’t too sure.

“ _Gotcha,”_ Clint said. An arrow flew into Tony’s field of vision and landed right on the robot that was tackling Steve.

Bucky was on edge the entire time, though he didn’t doubt for a second that the Avengers would pull through. It was over pretty soon, and several of Tony’s own robots were already cleaning up the mess.

The feed hadn’t ended yet, though, so Bucky continued to watch out of sheer curiosity.

“ _Cap’s not even sweating,_ ” Clint pointed out, landing right in front of Tony. The Hulk was already gone, replaced by Bruce instead.

“ _Wasn’t too intense of a fight_ ,” Steve said, out of view from the camera.

“ _Yeah, but the weather, man._ ”

Widow’s voice joined in. “ _Steve didn’t bother to change into his uniform_.” It took Bucky a moment to realize it was even her. She sounded a whole lot friendlier than she did when they met.

“ _He was too busy flirting with his new friend, don’t judge him,_ ” Clint laughed. Bucky gaped at that statement, unsure what to think.

“ _Hey.”_

“ _Now might be the time to tell you said friend is watching and listening in right now_ ,” Tony’s voice filtered through, sounding extremely amused.

They all went silent.

“ _He’s what?_ ” Steve finally breathed out.

“ _J?_ ” Tony said.

The feed cut off after that.

“Apologies, Bucky,” JARVIS told him as the TV powered off. There was really nothing Bucky could say to that, since his mind was very much confused.

He sat in the silence for a little bit more. It was probably just a joke. Bit of a banter between friends and all that. He shouldn’t think about it too much.

Shaking the thoughts out of his mind, Bucky stood up and walked over to his luggage. He might as well begin to unpack. He clicked his tongue and looked up at the ceiling. “What time does movie night start, JARVIS?”

“8 P.M.”

Bucky glanced down at his clothes.

“Thanks.”

* * *

_For work,_ Bucky reminded himself as he stood in the elevator, fiddling with the string of his jacket. He was leaning on the railing, staring at his own reflection on the door and trying to make sure he didn’t look like an idiot.

The elevator stopped on the 86th floor. Bucky straightened himself up. This wasn’t the communal floor yet.

The door opened, and Steve was standing on the other side. He looked at Bucky and his face brightened. He didn’t seem too uncomfortable after what Bucky overheard this afternoon, so it probably _was_ a joke. “Hey. You going to movie night?”

“Well, someone invited me,” Bucky retorted, unable to help himself. He flashed Steve a smile. Might as well. “He was pretty insistent about it.”

“I’m glad you decided to go.” Steve grinned, almost bashfully, though Bucky was probably imagining that. “Sorry I had to run off so fast earlier.”

Bucky waved a hand in the air. “It’s fine. World saving and all that, right?”

“I guess—”

He’s interrupted by shouting when the elevator doors opened. Something that looked like a shoe flew past Bucky, making him back into the corner of the elevator, eyebrows raised. He and Steve shared a look as Clint’s yelling took over the floor.

“That was my jar of pickles, you asshole!”

“It was on the kitchen counter, how was I supposed to—”

Tony was cut off by a battle cry and there was a sound of scuffling. Bucky assumed he was being tackled onto the ground.

He looked at Steve worriedly. “Are they okay?”

“I think Tony accidentally ate Clint’s pickles,” Steve said, as if it was completely normal for Clint to be losing his shit over a jar of pickles. For context, he said: “Clint loves his pickles.”

“Kinda figured,” Bucky muttered.

“Shall we?” Steve asked, tilting his head towards the communal floor.

Bucky watched as Clint and Tony finally came into view, running around the floor as Clint chased Tony with a spoon. This was what the Avengers were like when they weren’t forced to be all formal. They were... _chaotic_.

“Is it... is it _safe?_ ”

Steve burst out laughing at that, hand moving to clutch his chest. “You’ll be fine. Clint can’t do much harm.”

That did not do anything to reassure Bucky, but he followed Steve out the elevator anyway. If he took extra precautions to hide behind Steve’s big frame... well, he was only making sure he would stay alive tonight.

“Boys!” Widow snapped as she saw the two of them

Clint and Tony stop mid-run, Clint still holding the spoon in the air. Bruce was seated on the couch, shaking his head with a sigh. Thor was here now, apparently, and having a beer on the other end of the couch.

“Ooh, hey, Barnes,” Tony grinned, “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Why’s he here?” Widow frowned, eyes narrowed at Bucky. In that moment, Bucky genuinely feared for his life.

“I invited him,” Steve said with a bright smile, looking too damn pleased with himself. No wonder he was Captain America, poster boy for freedom and positivity. Bucky could only muster up an awkward wave as the playful air in the room slowly disappeared. He _knew_ this was a bad idea. And yet, Steve just shrugged.

“Hello, James!” Thor greeted, coming out of the kitchen. He had his hair in a bun, and he was in casual clothes, weirdly enough. He extended a hand towards Bucky. “Nice to meet you.”

“Er, nice to meet you too.” Bucky took his hand, and regretted it soon after. This. This was the feeling of getting your hand crushed. He glanced back at Steve, eyes pleading to make it stop.

Not that he and Steve were pals, but if anyone could save him...

Steve smiled at him before looking away.

Bastard.

“So, what are we watching tonight?” Steve asked his team.

“Haven’t picked a movie. Clint’s been too busy trying to kill me.”

Clint hurled a pillow at Tony for that comment, apparently no longer trying to put up a formal front at all. Thor finally let go of Bucky’s broken hand and clapped his hands together with a grin. “Clint was telling me about a movie called Percy Jackson.”

“No!” Tony and Clint shouted.

Clint threw his hands up, pointing aggressively towards Thor. “It was a fucking joke. A joke! We are _not_ watching Percy Jackson.”

The group then descended into a debate of what to watch.

“I actually don’t know why they hate Percy Jackson so much,” Steve admitted to Bucky as they watched everyone else bicker about. “I’ve watched the movie. It was okay.”

Bucky gaped at that atrocious statement. He had never heard anyone say the movie was okay. It was far from okay. “Have you... have you read the book? That movie makes me cry too. Not in a good way.”

“Why do I need to read the book?” Steve frowned.

Bucky face palmed. “Read the book,” he muttered.

“Okay, we’ve decided on Shawshank Redemption!” Clint announced, flopping down on the couch. Everyone had apparently taken a seat already, and the only spot left was the two seater that was near the window.

Because there was no other choice, Bucky and Steve sat on the couch. It was... uncomfortable was what it was. Steve was a big man, okay? And they weren’t _buddies_ , so Bucky constantly brushing Steve’s knee was not the most comfortable thing he’d experienced in his life. He wasn’t even sure why he felt weird about it. (Maybe because Steve was unfairly attractive, but Bucky refused to acknowledge that part).

Bucky was sitting on the edge of the couch for the first hour, leaning slightly on the arm rest.

“Do you want a beer?” Steve suddenly said, voice lowered.

“I thought you couldn’t get drunk?” Bucky asked, then immediately realized just how much of a stalker he sounded like. He winced. “That probably sounds creepy. That I know that. I swear I just came across the information when I was looking you up.”

Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Wait, no, fuck, no.” Could the couch just swallow him whole? “For work. For _work_. I was doing some background research for... this whole thing, you know?”

Steve chuckled. “Well, I can’t get drunk, but I figured you could.”

“Will you two shush?” Clint said absentmindedly, swatting a hand in their direction.

Steve rolled his eyes, giving Bucky a look with his eyebrows raised, a quirk in his mouth. He huffed out a small laugh and stood up. “I’ll go get that beer.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said.

As Steve walked off into the kitchen, Bucky sat back on the couch, trying to focus on the movie. He couldn’t. He’d lost track of the plot already, and his eyes were glazing over, so he focused instead on the people in the room.

Across him was Widow, her legs crossed, posture stiff, alert in every sense of the word. Clint was fully immersed in the movie, as expected. Tony typed something on his phone, turned it off, then went back to watching. Bruce was bouncing his leg, jittery. Thor did not seem like he cared much about the movie, more engrossed in his pop tarts.

Steve came back, handing Bucky a bottle. He had one himself. “Here you go.”

Bucky took the bottle. “What are you drinking for?”

Looking down at his own drink, Steve shrugged and sat down. “It’s a social thing, I guess.” He paused, tilting his head. “I’ve never actually been drunk in my entire life.”

“Why’s that?” Bucky drank a bit, licking his lips.

“Well, before the serum, I probably would’ve died,” he snorted. “After the serum it just doesn’t have an effect on me anymore.”

“So no hangovers then?”

“Nope.”

A piece of popcorn landed right on Steve’s forehead, accompanied by a hiss of, “Rogers, if you don’t shut up, I swear to God.”

Steve didn’t answer Clint. Instead he reclined on the couch, swinging his bottle around. “Sorry, he’s so rude,” he told Bucky, all good-natured and charming.

Bucky chuckled. “It’s fine,” he said.

But for Clint’s sake, they looked back at the movie, finally keeping quiet.

* * *

Bucky sat on the bed, clicked his pen open, and scribbled a few thoughts on his journal. They were fragmented thoughts, still, and based solely on his first impressions of the Avengers.

_Widow - professional, on guard every time_

_Clint - can be serious if he wants to be, but is actually a carefree guy_

_Thor - was absent for the mission today_

_Tony - acts like he does on camera, for the most part, and he actually makes a great second-in-command_

_Bruce - introverted, anxious_

_Steve_

Bucky paused, hovering over Steve’s name. What _did_ he think of Steve? Kind and funny, he would say, but the words did not seem to do justice. He tapped the edge of his notebook with his thumb. The words weren’t coming to him.

For next time then, he decided, and closed the notebook. He still had twenty-nine more days to think about it.

* * *

**_April 28, 2012 - Day 2_ **

Upon waking up, Bucky had been tempted to have breakfast on his floor, then realized he couldn’t spend his entire month holed up there, relishing in Stark’s generosity. If he did that, he’d have nothing to write by the end of the month, and then he’d be out of a job.

So, reluctantly, he stood in front of the elevator, looking like he’d crawled straight from the depths of hell. He tried fixing his hair as much as he could on the ride up, but his hands didn’t really improve it. He was sore and his head was pounding. Never had he been one to sleep well in an unfamiliar place, no matter how soft the comforters were.

The elevator opened, and Steve was standing there, sweaty yet put together. Did he come from a _jog?_ “Morning!” he said brightly. This was too much energy for 8 a.m.

Bucky grunted, stepping inside.

“Just woke up?” Steve asked.

“That obvious?”

A laugh. Okay. It was obvious then. Bucky rolled his eyes. “Stop being so chirpy.”

“What?” Steve threw his head back, hand on his chest, the sound of his laughter echoing in the small elevator. “Chirpy. That’s... that’s something I’ve never heard of. It’s not really that early.”

“Fuck you.” Oh, joy, Bucky’s tired self was cursing Captain America.

“Oh, wow, that’s direct,” Steve said, but there was a smile on his face, still. “Didn’t expect you to be telling me off so soon.”

“I’ll probably regret it later.” But not now.

When they got to the communal floor, it was a much more peaceful sight compared to last night. Tony and Thor were nowhere to be found, Bruce was making tea, Widow was on her phone, and Clint was eating his new jar of pickles.

“Morning, Cap,” Clint said, waving his spoon. He nodded at Bucky. “James.”

“Name’s Bucky,” Bucky muttered, walking over to the coffee machine, politeness be damned. He needed coffee.

Steve and Clint share amused looks, but he really didn’t care.

* * *

Upon further deliberation, Bucky found out he did, in fact, regret everything that had happened this morning. Sitting on his bed, he pulled out his phone and texted Sam.

**_Bucky:_ ** _They’re going to kill me. Probably planning my murder right now._

**_Sam:_ ** _What did you do?_

**_Bucky:_ ** _I said ‘fuck you’ to Captain America_

**_Sam:_ ** _You cursed at a national icon??_

**_Bucky:_ ** _Maybe_

**_Sam:_ ** _Best thing I’ve heard all day! Thanks for that, man._

**_Bucky:_ ** _Fuck you._

Bucky locked his phone and threw it on the bed, groaning into his hands. He had no friends.

* * *

“Are you here to kill me?” Bucky blurted out when Steve asked for access to his room and came inside with a pack of cards. Bucky had deliberately avoided Steve for most of the day because he was too mortified.

Steve blinked. He glanced down at the cards in his hands and looked back up at Bucky. “With playing cards?”

“You could kill me with your pinky. Playing cards don’t seem too far-fetched.” Bucky folded his arms. “So?”

“Why would I kill you?”

“I dunno.” Bucky shrugged. “Maybe ‘cause I cursed a national icon.”

Steve’s brows furrowed, looking so confused. (He had no right to make that look look adorable). “What national icon?”

Bucky stared at him flatly.

“Oh,” Steve said, cheeks turning a tinge red. “National icon?”

Bucky continued to stare.

“Right. Okay. I’m not killing you for cursing at me. I curse too, you know?” Bucky supposed that did make sense. Being in the army was unlikely to keep one’s mouth clean. Steve cleared his throat and straightened his back, holding the cards up in the air. “I was wondering if you wanted to play cards?”

“Play cards,” Bucky said.

“Yeah?” Steve tapped on the pack with the finger wrapped around it. “Clint taught me this new game called Speed. It was fun.”

Bucky shifted his stance, the most confused he’d been in a while. “Why exactly do you want to play cards with _me_?”

“People play cards with their friends, right? So—” Steve stopped, running a hand through his hair and tugging his jacket. “I just want to get to know you more, is all.”

“That is _my_ job,” Bucky pointed out, but he was already clearing the coffee table of his laptop and notebooks. “Literally. It’s my job to get to know _you_ more, so I don’t know why _you’re_ initiating this.”

“Friendship,” Steve said, sitting down on the carpet and taking the cards out.

“Friendship,” Bucky repeated, trying not to think of the whole _he’s too busy flirting with his new friend_ conversation Clint and Steve had. He shook his head with an exhale. “Okay, sure. I’ve never heard of the game Speed, by the way, so you’re going to have to teach me.”

Steve did.

It was a wreck.

* * *

“No! No! Absolutely not, you little shit!” Bucky yelled, diving forward to block Steve out of the way with his shoulder and put his own card down on the pile. “Ha! I won!”

Steve laughed, the eight of spades clutched tightly in his hand. “That was cheating. You blocked me!”

“No rules against that,” Bucky grinned, pumping his fist in the air. “I won.”

“Twelve to one,” Steve said, just to fuck with him.

Bucky rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Don’t rain on my parade,” he said, gathering up the cards and shoving them towards Steve. “Loser shuffles.” Because he’d been shuffling for the past twelve games, he’d be damned if he had to do it again.

“No cheating this time,” Steve told him as he straightened the cards in his hands. He riffle-shuffled it thrice, and distributed it between them.

“Your serum is already cheating,” Bucky said, “Super speed and reflexes. Totally cheating.”

Steve snorted. “Okay, but don’t blame me if I push you out of the way.”

Bucky gasped, hand over his mouth for dramatic effect. “Such foul play!”

He ended up getting shoved out of the way thrice in the next couple of games, and not once did he win again.

* * *

Once Steve had left, Pepper arrived on Bucky’s floor while he was trying to write something for the article. He didn’t have a solid clue of where he was going with this yet, but all he knew was that the Avengers were all friends, and that sort of team dynamic would be helpful in the battlefield as well.

“Mr. Barnes,” Pepper greeted, stopping short of the couch.

Bucky hastily stood. “Miss Potts. Hi.”

“I was speaking with your editor-in-chief yesterday, and she suggested that it would be a good idea for you to spend a day with each Avenger individually, so you could get to know them more personally. The team agreed, as hesitant as some others were.” She tapped something on her tablet and showed it to Bucky. “Here’s a schedule of which day you’ll be spending with who. I’ll be sending you a copy as well.”

So much for not getting too close with the Avengers.

Bucky stared at the spread out schedule. It was basically a two-week schedule of him spending time with the team—one day set aside for each member.

“If there is a mission on that day, we’ll reschedule your time with that person, but this is the one for now,” Pepper said.

That was that.

As soon as Pepper left, a notification for his e-mails went off, and he sat down to review the schedule again. The day after tomorrow, he was hanging out with Steve, apparently. Then Clint. Then Widow. Then Thor. Then Tony and Bruce at the same time.

Okay. This was perfectly normal. Nothing to worry about.

(There was everything to worry about.)

Bucky hated Regina so much.

(Not really. At least he was getting paid.)


	3. Bucky Did Not Sign Up For This

**_April 29, 2012 - Day 3_ **

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Bucky said when the elevator doors opened once again. “You’re the only person I ever run into on this thing.”

“You’ve been here three days.” Steve stepped into the elevator with a smile, standing next to him.

Bucky huffed. “Yeah, and I’ve already been injured by Captain America.”

The smile fell off Steve’s face. He looked at Bucky with an expression that could only be described as pure horror. “Shit, did I hit you too hard last night? I swear, I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“Oh, so you _do_ swear,” Bucky said. He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt slightly to show a small bruise. “Not that bad. I didn’t even realize I had it until you left.”

“Oh my God.” Steve stared at the bruise, lifting his hand to graze over it a little. “I did that. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Steve. Seriously.” Bucky wrinkled his nose and put the sleeve back. “Doesn’t even hurt.”

“Are you—are you _sure_?”

“Positive.”

It hurt a bit, but he wasn’t going to tell Steve that. He looked guilty enough as it was.

* * *

**_May 2, 2012 - Day 6_ **

Bucky watched as the Avengers bustled around the communal floor, shoving food in their mouths and fixing their uniforms at the same time. They were going on a highly classified mission that Bucky was not qualified to know about, so he just busied himself with the toaster as they rushed around him.

“We’re spending the day together tomorrow.” Steve smiled, putting on his ridiculous cowl. “I’ll see you?”

“You got plans?” Bucky grinned, taking the toast out.

Steve tilted his head. “Got anything in mind?”

“As long as we don’t go jogging at ungodly hours, I’m good.”

* * *

**_May 3, 2012 - Day 7_ **

Bucky was being forced out of bed by Captain America via the Macarena blasting loudly in his room. This was his life now.

“Why the fuck,” Bucky groaned, burying his face into his comfortable pillow. It was _6 a.m._ , for Christ’s sake. “JARVIS, turn it off!”

JARVIS did not turn it off.

Captain America was a fucking troll.

“Captain Rogers insists that you wake up, as per your agreement,” JARVIS said. The Artificial Intelligence sounded _amused_. Bucky took back any awe he’d had for the thing in the last few days.

“I did not agree to be woken up at 6 a.m.!” he shouted. “This is _exactly_ the kind of thing I said I didn’t want!”

“Captain Rogers is asking if it’s alright if he comes inside.”

Bucky paused.

“Whatever,” he muttered, closing his eyes again. The music shut off abruptly and his door opened. Without looking, he said, “Fuck you.”

“Look who’s chirpy,” came Steve’s voice.

Bucky grunted, flipping over and peeking at Steve through squinted eyes. “You’re an _asshole_.”

“Come on, we’re late,” Steve chuckled, his hand tugging Bucky’s comforter.

“For what—” Bucky glared at the eager smile staring back at him. He held up a hand that was still buried under the comforter. “Don’t say it.”

Steve’s grin widened. “We’re going jogging!”

* * *

When Steve said _we’re going jogging_ , what he really meant was _I’m going to jog every five seconds and wait for you at the other end of the block because you’re so slow_. Of course, Steve didn’t actually say that, but his muffled laughter at Bucky’s expense said enough.

Now, Bucky was not an out of shape guy. But this was ridiculous.

“You haven’t even broken a sweat,” Bucky panted as he leaned on the building wall, hand on his thigh. “I hate you.” He heaved. “I hate you so much.”

Steve hummed, hands on his hips as he looked around. He glanced down at his watch, and he seemed to take some sort of pity on Bucky. “Wanna go grab breakfast?”

“I don’t even think I can walk anymore,” Bucky said. He wiped his forehead with his shirt and shook his head.

“Want me to carry you?”

“Huh—?”

When Bucky looked up, Steve was blushing. _What the fuck was going on?_ Steve cleared his throat, staring intently at the lamp post behind Bucky. “Sorry, that was too forward, wasn’t it?”

“Uh,” was all Bucky said.

“There’s this café just two blocks away, if you can walk. Or we can take a cab?”

“No, no, I can,” Bucky staggered onto his feet, “I can walk.”

The entire walk was a _pain_ , and Bucky was starting to regret not taking Steve up on his offer. Of course, he still wouldn’t, since _how_ _awkward would that be?_ But it would’ve been nice, because Bucky was sore, and he wanted to sit down.

Bucky glanced at Steve’s calm pace and lack of sweat. He huffed. “Do you run to the other end of the country everyday to feel like you worked out or something?”

“I kind of just run around in circles,” Steve said. He stopped in front of a coffee shop and opened the door, letting Bucky walk in first. “Order anything. My treat.”

Bucky shrugged, not thinking much of it. He didn’t have a wallet with him anyway. He scanned the menu board, then stepped in front of the barista. “One chocolate muffin and cappuccino, thanks.”

Steve stood next to him, already clutching a few bills. “I’ll have a honey glazed donut and a cappuccino as well, please.”

Whether or not the barista was stunned to see Steve in the café, she said nothing on the topic. With a grateful smile, Steve took their food and led Bucky to a table in the corner. He set the food down first, pulled a chair open for Bucky with a smile, then sat down himself.

“So, how’s the article going?” Steve asked, muffled by the donut he’d shoved in his mouth.

Bucky barely started, but he wasn’t going to admit that. Instead, he smirked. “You’re just going to have to read it like everyone else.”

“That bad?”

“Not bad,” Bucky said, “But I think it’s too early for a final decision.”

Steve looked at him for a moment and his lips twitched. “You haven’t written anything, have you?”

Bucky sighed in defeat, poking his muffin with the fork. “Barely.”

“You’ve got a month anyway,” Steve said with a small, reassuring smile.

“Well, Regina’s expecting a draft by the end of this week, but, yeah, I guess I’ve got a month.”

* * *

Steve Rogers’ days apparently consisted of exercising, drawing, and catching up on the future, as Steve told Bucky. So, after they took their respective showers, Bucky was invited to Steve’s floor to watch famous movies he’d never heard of.

“I’ve been thinking of watching Star Trek. Haven’t gotten around it,” Steve was saying as he set a bottle of beer and popcorn down on the coffee table. He threw a blanket in Bucky’s direction. “Unless you’ve got other movies you want to watch?”

“Star Trek’s fine,” Bucky said. He inspected the blanket, looking closely. “Are these _mini_ versions of you?”

Steve didn’t seem too embarrassed about it. “It was a gag gift from Tony, and it’s the only blanket I have that isn’t the comforters on my bed.”

Bucky snorted. “Nice.”

“So, Star Trek?”

Bucky nodded, already tucking his legs underneath him and putting the blanket over himself. Steve took the other end of the big blanket, tucking himself in it as well. They sat on opposite ends, a bowl of popcorn between them.

Much to his surprise, Bucky found himself dwelling less on the strangeness of it all, and enjoying himself in the moment.

Until his phone vibrated. He took it out to see a notification from Sam.

 **_Sam:_ ** _*photo attached*_

 **_Sam:_ ** _You went on a coffee date with Captain America??_

Bucky blinked at the photo, his cheeks heating up at how weird the photo looked. It was right when Steve had pulled out a chair for him, and it looked... sweet.

He furiously typed back a reply.

 **_Bucky:_ ** _No_

 **_Bucky:_ ** _He invited me for a jog then we had breakfast_

 **_Sam:_ ** _Dude, that looks like a date_

 **_Bucky:_ ** _It’s not_

 **_Sam:_ ** _YOU WENT ON A COFFEE DATE WITH CAPTAIN AMERICA!!!_

 **_Bucky:_ ** _It wasn’t a date_

 **_Sam:_ ** _!!!_

Bucky clenched his jaw and ignored that last text. His phone vibrated again, and a notification from his co-worker popped up.

 **_Killian:_ ** _*photo attached*_

It was the exact same photo Sam had sent.

 **_Killian:_ ** _You’re already hooking up with Captain America?_

 **_Killian:_ ** _Regina’s gonna flip, mate_

 **_Bucky:_ ** _WHY DOES EVERYONE HAVE THAT PHOTO???_

 **_Bucky:_ ** _WE AREN’T HOOKING UP_

 **_Killian:_ ** _He’s pulling out a chair for you_

 **_Killian:_ ** _So you’re just dating?_

 **_Killian:_ ** _Bloody hell, Barnes, it’s been four days, you sure move fast_

Bucky growled, causing Steve to look his way in concern. He flapped a hand in the air, waving Steve away.

 **_Bucky:_ ** _We’re just friends_

 **_Killian:_ ** _*thinking face emoji*_

“You alright?” Steve asked.

“It’s just my friends being idiots,” Bucky said, turning his phone off and pocketing it. He looked back at the movie. “It’s nothing.”

* * *

**_May 5, 2012 - Day 9_ **

Unlike Steve, Clint was not a morning person, so Bucky wasn’t dragged out of bed against his will. Instead, Clint told JARVIS to tell Bucky they were going to meet in the training room at one in the afternoon like the sane person Steve was not.

“Hey, man,” Clint greeted, letting an arrow lose. Even though he spared Bucky a glance, the arrow still hit a perfect bullseye. Not that Bucky was surprised.

Clint lowered his bow, turning to Bucky. “How was your day with Steve?”

“We just watched Star Trek,” Bucky said, unsure of where to put himself. He was awkwardly standing near the weapon rack.

“No way,” Clint said, his eyes lighting up in awe. “You got him to watch Star Trek?”

“No? Not really. I mean, he suggested it.”

Clint walked over to the rack and placed his bow, a grin on his face. “Never thought I’d see the day Cap would willingly watch Star Trek. He goes on and on about how it’s _too long_.”

“Well, we didn’t really finish, and I fell asleep by the fourth one, and when I came to, he was drawing on his sketchbook, and the TV was turned off.”

“Gonna be honest, I’ve got no interest in cuddling you on the couch to watch movies—” Bucky’s eyes widened as Clint said that, but before he could protest, Clint was already speaking over him “—so we can just go to the communal floor and play cards. Maybe invite anyone else who happens to be there.”

* * *

Playing cards with Clint, Bucky found out, was nothing like it was with Steve. There wasn’t much competitive spirit. They were just there to play and talk, and it was all casual. Bucky did not do any table dives.

“Steve taught you, right?” Clint said as he slapped down an Ace of Hearts on top of the pile in the middle. Bucky rushed to put a King of Clubs, his mind split between the game and the conversation.

“Yeah. The other day.” _Ace of Spades._

 _Two of Hearts_. “Nice. Thought he’d back out.”

“Huh?” _Three of Diamonds._

 _Two of Diamonds._ “He was asking me to teach him a two player game he could play with you.”

Bucky’s movements slowed down. “What?”

 _Ace of Clubs._ Clint grimaced, but there was still a hint of a smile. “Whoops. Said too much.”

“Wait, what?”

Clint slapped down his last two cards and threw his hands up. “I win!”

Bucky stared at the pile, mind not quite in the moment to feel bad enough about the loss.

* * *

Clint had invited Bucky to eat dinner at the communal floor with the rest of the Avengers. All of Bucky’s protests never seemed to reach his ears, because despite Bucky telling him he could prepare dinner on his own floor, Clint had patted his back then said _see you there!_ and that was that.

But for all that Clint talked about _team bonding over dinner,_ the team wasn’t even there by the time Bucky arrived.

Except Steve.

Steve was eating out of a Chinese take-out box when Bucky arrived.

“Hey,” said Steve, holding up a _spoon_. A spoon. The man was using a spoon to eat Chinese food.

Walking over to the other take out box on the table, Bucky frowned at the spoon. “Why aren’t you using chopsticks?”

Steve glanced back down at the spoon in his hands, looking back up with a sheepish smile. “Never really learned.”

“Seriously?” Though that did make sense, Bucky supposed. Between the Great Depression, being an ice cube, and then world-saving, there might not have been any time for Steve Rogers to learn how to use chopsticks.

Bucky sat down next to Steve and took out a pair of his own, snapping it apart. “Where’s the team?” he asked as he opened the box.

“Clint and Na—” Steve’s eyes widened, and his mouth clamped down on the spoonful of rice. “Widow. I mean, Widow,” he said, voice muffled. For his sake, Bucky didn’t comment on the slip (what was he going to do with knowing Widow’s name started with _Na_ anyway?). Steve swallowed the rice. “Clint and Widow have SHIELD business, Tony and Bruce are in the lab, and Thor is on Asgard.”

“Clint’s the one who invited me here,” Bucky said.

Steve cleared his throat. “The SHIELD thing was a—it was a last minute thing.”

“What about?” he asked, then frowned, looking down. “Sorry, I’m probably not allowed to know, huh?”

“Well, not really, but,” Steve pursed his lips. “Off the record?” he tried.

Bucky wasn’t an asshole, so he nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Right. Well.” Steve was stabbing at the rice with his spoon. “Someone’s been threatening to kidnap me or something. They’re leaving messages in certain areas. Can’t get into much detail but... I think they want me for my serum? I don’t know. We have no idea who it is.”

“Jeez, that’s tough,” was all Bucky could say. Because, really, what else could he say? It was _Captain America_ , there wasn’t much comfort Bucky could give him.

“Eh, we’ll find out eventually.” There was a pinch in Steve’s eyebrows that told Bucky that he only _hoped_ they’d find out eventually. “Anyway. Clint and Widow are at SHIELD, trying to figure it out, whatever. I’m pretty useless until they get their spy stuff done, and we get more information.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Bucky, already wincing at himself.

Steve snorted, looking amused. He tried to scoop up dumpling, but accidentally sent it flying towards Bucky. The dumpling landed next to Bucky’s box, and Bucky hurried to pick it up with his chopstick.

“This is why you need chopsticks,” Bucky chuckled, waving the dumpling in the air. “Or at least a fork.”

Steve’s grimaced, fingers twirling the spoon a little. “Sorry about that.”

“Well.” Bucky hovered the dumpling near Steve, a cheeky grin on his face. Not thinking, he pressed it to Steve’s lips, catching the other man—and himself—by complete surprise. “Still gotta eat it, right?”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he parted his lips to eat the dumpling. His cheeks were red now, and it was only then that Bucky’s actions dawned on him.

“Oh,” said Bucky, hand faltering. _What the fuck was that?_ “Uh.”

Steve blinked. He looked down at his food. “So, uh, how was Clint?”

 _He told me you asked him to teach you a card game specifically for me_. “He was great.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s... that’s nice.”

Bucky nodded, and then finished his dinner as fast as possible to save both him and Steve from the awkwardness.

* * *

**_May 6, 2012 - Day 10_ **

This was going down as one of the most terrifying moments of Bucky’s life, he was sure. Nothing was beating this. This was fear. Panic. Terror. Trepidation. Bucky couldn’t speak.

He gripped the bowl of cereal as Widow stared him down, unmoving.

“Uh,” said Bucky, all intelligence thrown out the window. For someone whose job was based on his capability of expressing himself through words, he sure was running short on them these past few days.

Tony Stark walked into the kitchen, grabbing his mug off the rack and glancing at them with a snort. “Jesus, Widow, you’re scaring the kid.”

_Kid?_

Bucky opened his mouth to protest the term, but the words died in his throat as Steve came inside without a shirt on.

“Someone stole all my shirts,” grunted Steve, glaring at Tony.

Tony raised his hands in the air, mug swinging a little. There was a small smile on his face, but otherwise, he was a picture of innocence. “Hey, why are you looking at me? I don’t have the time for that.”

“It’s always you and Clint! And I—” Steve’s eyes landed on Bucky, and they widened comically. His cheeks flushed, breath catching, and he turned toward Tony with a horrified expression. “Give me my shirts back,” he gritted out, tips of his ears turning red as he stalked off.

It was then that Widow’s impassive expression finally broke into a smirk.

“Eight days and he is already gone,” Widow said, eyes scanning over Bucky. “Isn’t he, Tony?”

“Mm?” Tony had his mouth on his mug. He took a gulp of his coffee and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Oh, yeah, definitely.”

Bucky was _so_ confused. “What?” he squeaked out.

“Though I’m not so sure you can be trusted yet,” continued Widow. “Journalists, after all...”

Bucky stamped down any embarrassment, a brief flash of irritation catching him. “Sorry?” If he hadn’t been so scared of Black Widow, he’d have snapped at her already.

“Oh, I don’t mean to offend.” Widow tilted her chair back, propping her feet up on the table. “Although, I do suppose I’m well within my rights to tell you that if you so much as hurt Steve, well.” She drew a line across her neck with a malicious smile.

Bucky’s hand was shaking, and he had to set the spoon down. “I—I don’t understand.”

Tony went around the table to pat Bucky’s shoulder. “You will soon enough, bud, if you haven’t already.” He looked at Widow with eyebrows raised, but he continued to address Bucky. “Ignore her, she’s terrifying, but she’s not actually going to kill you unless you do something wrong.”

“That’s—” _That’s not reassuring_. “Thanks, I guess?”

In that moment, the Avengers alarm rang, and Bucky could not be more grateful for the ear-shattering sound.

Tony’s hand fell from Bucky’s shoulder, and he stomped over to the coffee machine with a huff. “God dammit, I’ve only had one cup!”

* * *

Bucky sat on the couch, his laptop positioned precariously on the arm rest as he flipped through his small notebook, trying to find some inspiration for the article. He needed a draft of at least 300 words if he didn’t want Regina to hound him.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, tossing the useless notebook on the coffee table. He placed his laptop over his lap, writing whatever came to him.

_The Avengers began as an idea, and now, they exist as a team of superheroes who aim to stop the world from falling into complete chaos._

“Jesus, I sound like Wikipedia.”

Bucky deleted it.

He stared at the blank page blinking back at him and exhaled, cheeks puffing out.

Nothing.

He threw his head back on the couch and groaned, snapping his laptop shut.

He could try again later.

* * *

If anyone told Bucky that he would one day be sitting on the floor playing _Never Have I Ever_ with a bunch of super powered individuals, he’d have asked them for some of the drugs they were on. Because it was a hysterical thought, really, but that was all it was supposed to be: a _thought_.

Yet here he was, sitting on the communal floor between Steve and Widow, having already downed seven shots after ten questions (to be fair, the questions were really basic so far, okay? It wasn’t Bucky’s fault he’s taken nudes before).

“Widow loves this game because it exposes people, so since it’s her day, we’re going to play it,” Clint had said after dinner when the team decided to have some bonding time, all the while inviting Bucky along. First of all, Bucky didn’t understand _why_ they would want to play such a game with him. Just six days ago, they were adamant about not trusting him, and now they wanted to play a game wherein the entire premise was to expose things?

Huh. Maybe he _had_ made a good impression after all.

“Never have I ever used a dating app,” said Clint on his turn.

Bucky looked around, but no one made a move for a shot. He sighed, leaning over to take one for himself and drinking it.

Everyone was grinning at him, and Clint wiggled his eyebrows. “How’d it go?”

“This isn’t truth or dare,” Bucky huffed, setting the glass down. It didn’t actually go anywhere, to be honest. Grindr was way too interested in dicks than he preferred (though he should’ve expected that).

“Never have I ever had sex with someone of the same gender,” Widow said, leaning back on the couch behind her.

Tony raised an eyebrow at her, reaching over for a glass. “You’ve never had sex, period.” Oh, so that’s why she hadn’t had a shot yet. “You don’t even like it.”

She shrugged.

Bucky had already put a glass to his lips when, out of his peripheral vision, he saw Steve reaching forward for the Asgardian version of a shot that was supposed to be able to make him drunk.

Bucky promptly choked on his drink.

“What the fuck, Barnes?” Clint laughed.

Steve sheepishly drank his own shot, cheeks flushing red. He was looking straight at Bucky. “I’m bisexual?” he said, almost as if he was _asking_ Bucky.

“I—I—okay. Okay.” Bucky cleared his throat. “Right. Yeah. I mean, I’m gay. Me. Gay. So it’s fine. It’s not—not a problem.”

Widow snorted, Bruce was hiding a laugh beneath his hand, Thor had his eyebrows raised, and Clint and Tony were dying of laughter. Great. Leave it to Bucky to humiliate himself in front of superheroes.

“Oh. That’s nice,” said Steve, and then he turned even redder. “Wait, it’s not—I don’t—” he faltered, shoulders slumping.

Tony and Clint laughed even more, but Tony managed to steady himself to say, “Save Rogers from the embarrassment and just ask your question, Barnes.”

“Er, right.” Bucky composed himself, straightening up. “Never have I ever joined the mile high club.”

Steve didn’t move to get a shot, though he looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Bucky was sure he himself looked the same.

“Steve, do you even know what a mile high club is?” Widow asked, leaning over to look at him.

“Of course I do,” Steve muttered, “It wasn’t like I was riding a lot of planes in the ‘40s.”

“You haven’t had sex since the ‘40s?” Bucky found himself asking, because that would mean Steve had fucked a guy in the ‘40s. Which... well, that would be a staggering revelation if it became public information.

Steve locked eyes with him, puffed out a breath, and looked away. “It’s my turn now, right?”

“Try not to make it too clean this time,” Tony joked.

“Never have I ever put my dick inside someone else,” Steve said, deadpan. He held the serious expression for a few seconds, everyone gaping at him, before he finally broke, looking shocked by his own self. “I did _not_ mean to say that.”

Bruce was the first to break the tension, pouring himself a shot. Everyone else, except for Steve and Widow, followed suit.

“Wait I just realized something,” Tony said, pointing at Thor. “Did you drink on _Nat’s_ turn?” he asked, effectively taking away the attention from Steve.

Thor shrugged. “I am over a thousand years old.”

Clint whistled. “You don’t hear that from Norse myths.”

As the rest of the group broke into laughter, Bucky and Steve locked eyes with small smiles before Bucky quickly averted his gaze.

 _What the hell?_ He needed way more drinks.

* * *

**_May 7, 2012 - Day 11_ **

Bucky rolled over to the edge of his bed, head pounding as he reached an arm out to grab his phone. He squinted at his screen, turning off the alarm of 10 a.m.

He groaned, his right hand falling to his side as he threw the blanket over his eyes to block out the blinding sun. It was silent at first, and he knew he had to meet up with Thor today, but he was seriously debating on falling asleep again.

Then his phone vibrated once more, and he peeked over the comforter to glance at it. It was an e-mail from Regina. Bucky blinked, panic settling in. He knew he wrote a draft when he came back from the communal floor last night, but it was a horrible draft, for sure. Something he definitely wouldn’t have sent.

 **_From:_ ** [ **_reginamills@nytimes.com_ ** ](mailto:reginamills@nytimes.com)

**_To:_ ** [ **_jamesbarnes@nytimes.com_ ** ](mailto:jamesbarnes@nytimes.com)

**_Subject: Re: Avengers Article Draft_ **

_Should I regret sending you as our correspondent now? Please rewrite the entirety of this and scrap the draft. 1,000 words is already plenty, and you’ve spent 800 of it talking about Captain America. I understand that he is the team’s leader, but the public is interested in the team as a whole, and their capability of fighting together. Also, audiences are not interested in reading about his inability to use chopsticks._

_I do hope you were drunk when you wrote this. I know for a fact that you know how to write well, so it would be a shame if this is all you have been reduced to now._

_Regina Mills  
Editor In Chief  
New York Times_

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky said. He bit his lip as he downloaded the attached file he had sent. He wrote _800 words_ about Captain America. He couldn’t be blamed, really, because he had been spending a lot of time with Steve compared with the other members.

The moment the file opened, Bucky wanted to cry.

_Steve is so easy to get along with despite his lack of competence when it comes to eating Chinese food with chopsticks._

That was all Bucky was able to read before he was tossing his phone across the bed, mortified.

“I’m fired. I’m so fired.” He scrambled out of the bed and began to put on some clothes, taking his phone again to type out a reply.

 **_From:_ ** [ **_jamesbarnes@nytimes.com_ ** ](mailto:jamesbarnes@nytimes.com)

**_To:_ ** [ **_reginamills@nytimes.com_ ** ](mailto:reginamills@nytimes.com)

**_Subject: Re: Avengers Article Draft_ **

_Good morning,_

_I truly apologize for the draft I sent last night. It was a mistake, and I assure you that it was not, in any way, meant to resemble the actual article I am going to write._

_I will be sending a new draft tonight._

_Respectfully,_

_James Barnes_  
Correspondent  
New York Times

Bucky read over the e-mail a couple of times before hitting send.

“Mr. Barnes, Thor is asking for you,” JARVIS said as Bucky was buttoning his pants.

“I know, I know,” said Bucky, slipping on socks. His head still had a dull throbbing ache that worsened with his quick movements. “Where does one get fucking aspirin around here?”

“There is aspirin on the communal floor. I can have some delivered here for future use, if you’d like.”

Bucky stood in front of the mirror, combing his fingers through his hair. He nodded. “That would be great, thanks.” Not that he was ever planning on getting drunk ever again. Not this month. No way. He had a job, and he was going to be damn well focused on it.

* * *

“Oh, fuck no,” Bucky found himself blurting out when the elevator stopped on the 86th. On _Steve’s_ floor. The whole chopsticks night had been awkward enough, but there was no way Bucky would be able to stand next to Steve, knowing that he had drunkenly waxed poetic about him last night.

The elevators opened, and there stood Steve.

Steve raised a hand in greeting. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

This had to be the longest elevator ride that Bucky had ever taken in his life. The floor numbers were creeping up ever so slowly as Bucky tapped his foot on the floor

Steve locked eyes with Bucky’s reflection on the door. “You okay?”

“Mm,” Bucky mumbled. “Just a headache.”

“Does your head hurt? Tony said you were a bit drunk yesterday.”

“I’m going to swallow some aspirin.” _88\. 89._ “Then coffee should do it.” _90._

The door opened once again, and Bucky was stumbling out in search of what he needed. But then Steve was pulling him back, hand on his shoulder in a gentle grip.

“Wait.” Steve leaned closer, hovering over Bucky’s ear. He chuckled a little. “You might want to zip up your pants first.”

Bucky glanced down and found that his pants were, in fact, unzipped. He was about to mutter a humiliated thanks, but when he looked up, Steve was already walking away.

* * *

After the embarrassing stunt pulled off by an alcohol-ridden Bucky Barnes, he decided (after his mind had been cleared by aspirin and coffee) that he was going to be the journalist he was trained to be. Meaning, no more too-friendly interactions with the team (especially Steve). _Especially_ if he wanted to be writing an objective report.

Except... how was he supposed to write a report at all by watching Thor wrestle with a Bilgesnipe.

“Bilgy!” Thor yelled as the Bilgesnipe—Bilgy—rolled on top of him before letting go and bounding toward Bucky. “Bilgy, no!”

“Jesus motherfucker,” Bucky said, his back hitting the wall as the large animal slobbered all over his face. He gasped, wiping some of the saliva from his cheek. “I hate journalism.”

“Apologies, James, he is not used to people being here,” said Thor, tugging Bilgy backward.

Bucky tucked his hair behind his ear, glancing around. “Why is he here, anyway?” _Here_ was Thor’s floor that was composed mostly of wall and floor, and not much else. There was only one door that was _probably_ a bathroom, but otherwise the entire place was stripped bare. Bucky figured it was to give this humongous thing some running space.

“I take him here if I am unable to stay on Asgard for long periods at a time,” said Thor, tugging the Bilgesnipe away. “My shield brothers tend to avoid this floor, so it is not often he finds someone else to play with.”

Bucky gave Thor a skeptical look. “Play with or choke to death?”

“He is simply having fun!” Thor exclaimed, and Bilgy growled, staring straight at Bucky.

“Fun. Right.” Bucky turned away, gaze dropping to the floor with a roll of his eyes. “Of course, how could I have missed that?”

Thor grinned, nodding. He brought Bilgy over to a water trough, let it have a drink, and then walked back to Bucky. “So, what are we to do today?”

“Well—” Bucky paused. “Actually, is it alright if I ask you a few questions? Just to help me with the article and stuff, you know?”

Thor was already nudging them toward the elevator. “I will be glad to be of help!”

* * *

“Why didn’t I think of this before?” Bucky grumbled as he set his phone on his table, notebook in hand. Thor was sitting in front of him, Mjölnir on his lap like it weighed nothing. “I _should_ interview the others as well.”

“What have you been doing with them the past few days?” Thor asked.

“Well, Steve and I went jogging—”

“Jogging?”

Bucky blinked. “Yeah? It’s like running, but slower.”

“I know what jogging is,” Thor said, “Only, I am surprised Steven asked you to accompany him. He is not fond of jogging with people, and prefers to do it alone. I know because Clint has offered to join him before.”

“Oh, well.” Bucky frowned. “I needed to, you know, shadow him. Yeah. Anyway,” he sat down and cleared his throat, “I’m just going to go through some basic questions, nothing too heavy, hopefully. Unless the conversation steers towards that. Anything you say will be on the record.” He tapped his phone to start recording. “So, uh, just keep the confidential stuff to yourself.”

Thor nodded.

“State for the record your name and where you’re from, please.”

“Prince Thor Odinson of Asgard.”

“Okay, Thor, let’s get started.”

* * *

From Thor, Bucky was expecting to be able to gain _some_ insight into the way the Avengers operated, except Thor was not on Earth half of the time, so he was probably as clueless as Bucky was.

 _But_ the draft Bucky wrote next was, in his opinion, _far_ better than the one he had sent out last night. Then again, it wasn’t as though there was that high of a bar in the first place.

Just as Bucky hit send, JARVIS asked Bucky if Steve was allowed on the floor.

Bucky pursed his lips, closing his laptop and stretching his arms out. “Does he need anything?”

There was a pause, possibly JARVIS relaying the question to Steve, and then, “He wants to know if you’ll be interested in playing cards.”

Frowning, Bucky drummed his fingers on top of his laptop before he slowly shook his head, reminding himself that he knew far too much about Steve than necessary, and that if he wanted an article that didn’t center around Steve, he should spend less time with him. (In reality, these were all just pathetic excuses to save himself from his own embarrassment.)

“Tell him I’m busy,” said Bucky, only feeling a small pang of guilt as he walked back to his room to get some sleep.

* * *

**_May 10, 2012 - Day 14_ **

“Welcome to the land of innovation!” Tony announced, his hands spreading out as the door to the laboratory opened. “Of course, this is not the _only_ land of innovation—there’s also my lab—but Bruce didn’t mind sharing, and he doesn’t really keep confidential stuff here, so.” He looked back at Bucky. “I know it’s really late at night—” It was 9 p.m. “—and Pep tried to remind me that most people don’t have fucked up sleep schedules, but I forgot.”

“Tony?” Bruce said from where he was bent over a small plate.

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

Tony gave Bucky a _Well, what can you do?_ look and walked over to Bruce. He had his hands in his pockets, peering closely. “Are you—”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then.” He stood up straight and glanced over at Bucky. “No sound. We can’t distract Bruce from extracting a Pym particle. Unless you want to turn small, then by all means.”

Bucky watched Bruce... do what he did (he had no idea what Bruce was doing) for the next thirty minutes before Bruce finally slid his goggles up and took his gloves off. “Alright, we’re done. Hey, Bucky, nice to see you.”

Bruce and Tony shared a small glance, and Tony shrugged. “Should we?” he asked, motioning towards Bucky.

“No.”

“Come on, it’s in his best interest.”

“He’ll punch you.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“He’ll want to.”

“Not if it works out.”

“Tony, come on.”

Bucky raised a hand up to interrupt them both. “Uh, sorry? Who are we talking about?”

Tony and Bruce shared another look. Tony sighed, slouching slightly as he looked back at Bucky. “No one.”

That was _not_ helpful in any manner. Eager to know, Bucky pressed for answers. “Is it Steve?”

Tony perked up and grinned at Bruce. “Not my fault if he figures it out on his own, right?”

Bruce put his face in a hand and waved the other one in the air. “You do you, Tony,” he said, but he didn’t seem _completely_ against the idea anyway. “Just know that I’m not cleaning your bloody nose by the end of this.”

Tony puffed out a breath. “Yes, it’s about Steve. I guess the most I can say that won’t land me in the hospital is... Steve has spent the past three days with the punching bags.”

“Huh?”

As if the world was trying to hide a secret from Bucky, the Avengers alarm rang out then and there.

“I hate you,” Bucky informed them as they rushed out, Tony leaving with a pat to Bucky’s shoulder. “I hate you all so much.”

“See you later!” Tony grinned, and then the doors swung close, leaving Bucky in the midst of science and technology he didn’t understand. For a moment, Bucky wondered if Tony and Bruce were being too trusting, but he soon realized that he was constantly being watched by JARVIS, and he probably wouldn’t be able to get within five meters of any classified information.

Since Bucky was alone, and he didn’t really have anyone to talk to, his options were to either do more research or go outside and buy a drink. It was too early to go to sleep.

He stared at the blinking holograms and clicked his tongue. “Hey, JARVIS? Where’s the nearest Starbucks?”

* * *

The nearest Starbucks, as it turned out, was three blocks away.

There _used_ to be a Starbucks on the second floor of Stark Industries, but they weren’t earning much because this local coffee shop on the same floor made better coffee, and they were even cheaper—JARVIS had suggested that Bucky try said coffee shop, but Bucky really wanted to get out of the Tower.

So Starbucks it was.

The Avengers were called to assemble someplace that was about 30 minutes away, so Bucky wasn’t too concerned that he was going to get squashed by some flying debris or a raging Hulk.

“Bucky,” he told the barista after he gave his order, sliding over his card with that awkward smile he tended to give strangers. The barista smiled back at him, weary. She handed back his card, along with the receipt.

Bucky walked near the claim counter, wishing he had brought his phone with him. He’d accidentally left it at the tower.

“Bucky?”

He looked up and shuffled closer to grab his drink. Before he could even reach for it, another guy was already reaching over to grab it and immediately drank it.

Bucky glared at the other guy and put a hand out in protest. “Hey!”

“Huh?” the guy glanced over with a raised eyebrow, then he looked at the name of the drink in his hand, smacking his lips and grimacing. “Whoops, sorry about that. Didn’t notice.” He gestured to the other drink on the table, untouched. “You can have mine?”

Bucky looked at the long line and back at the drink. “Fine. Whatever.” He snatched the other drink off the counter and put it to his lips, taking a sip.

He gave the guy one last glare before stomping away, still slightly miffed because the drink in his hand had way too much sugar for his liking. As he pushed the door open, he felt the world in front of him tilt as though he had just gotten off a wild roller coaster. Bucky blinked, leaning heavily on the glass with a frown.

“What the fuck?” he muttered, blinking harder as he trudged on. The door swung close behind him. His chest felt heavy and his breathing became harsher, vision starting to darken.

There was a hand on his shoulder as he leaned on the glass. “Hey, you alright?” said a female voice, coming from very far away.

“Sorry, that’s my cousin; he’s had a rough day.” There was another hand on him. It was the guy from earlier. “I’ll be taking him.”

Bucky couldn’t lift a hand to protest. “What?” he managed weakly, trying to fight the darkness.

“Are you sure—”

“Yep, I got him,” was the last Bucky heard before he was overwhelmed by the pounding in his head, the light disappearing before him as he felt his body giving out.

* * *

Light. Blinding light. _Can someone turn the damn lights off?_

“They know he’s gone?”

_Why were his hands trapped?_

“Of course.”

“He’s awake.”

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

“Put him to sleep again.”

_What? No. What?_

A gag muffled his scream.


	4. Captain America Saves the Day (Like Always)

**_May 12, 2012 - Day 15_ **

_Slap._ A stinging pain on his cheek.

“Wake up.”

_Huh?_

“Hey. Wake the fuck up.”

Cold metal pushed against Bucky’s temple. There was a tug on his hair. Another slap to his face. His head pounded as he stirred awake, eyes slowly blinking open. It was a blur, at first, and it took half a minute for the scene to adjust.

A gun was stuck to his head, he realized, and a cloth gag was stuck in his mouth, wet and disgusting. His arms were tied to the chair’s armrests, and his legs were attached to the chair as well. There were two men posted by the door right in front of him, both wearing masks that covered the lower half of their faces. Another man was in the center, holding a camera, except the camera was facing the floor.

There was a man closer to his field of vision, also wearing a mask. When he spoke, Bucky realized it was the guy from Starbucks. “Good morning,” the man said, obvious glee in the way he spoke. He waved a bottle of water in the air, his gloved hand wrapped around it. The gun to Bucky’s head slowly moved away, but he was sure it was still pointed at him from somewhere behind. “You thirsty?”

Bucky glared, mostly because he had a gag in his mouth and the only way he could say _fuck you_ was with his eyes. The man seemed to have come to the same conclusion, sliding the gag out of Bucky’s mouth and tugging it down so it landed sloppily on his chest.

The man waved the bottle about. “Come on, don’t you want it?”

Beg. He wanted Bucky to beg. Bucky glared instead.

It was obviously all for show, because the man was quick to shrug and pass the bottle off to one of his companions. “Guess you’ll just die of thirst, then,” he said. Bucky had it in his mind to ask why the _fuck_ he was even here, but he knew that he wouldn’t really get a proper answer.

The man in the middle lifted the camera, pointing it at Bucky. Then, the man talking—who Buck dubbed _Asshole_ (Bucky wasn’t feeling very creative)—turned to face it. “We want Steve Rogers to surrender himself willingly and allow us to run tests on his blood for serum replication. Only then will we give his lover back.”

_Lover?_

Bucky was still glaring, wishing he could burn a hole through the back of the guy’s head. Although, he supposed, his previous question was now answered. They thought he was Steve’s lover, and so they thought having him would give them the upper hand.

Then Asshole reached a hand out, touching Bucky’s face. Mortified by the action, Bucky tried to shift away from the hand, but Asshole simply grabbed his jaw, and Bucky could imagine his smile underneath the mask.

“You have an hour,” he said. There was a sharp sound, and a knife found itself shy of Bucky’s right hand, grazing his fingers. The knife pressed harder. “What a shame it would be for a writer to lose his hands.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “You are so fucking screwed.” This plan wasn’t going to work. They didn’t have _any_ upper hand if they were planning to manipulate Steve’s emotions under the impression that he and Bucky were together. _Sorry, pal, Captain America’s way out of my league_.

“332 39th Street. Only the Captain and no one else. No shield, no armor. We want a willing surrender. If the Avengers are spotted within the premises,” Asshole patted Bucky’s cheek, “we cut off an arm.”

The camera was taken away after that, in a flourish of dramatization that had Bucky rolling his eyes. “What? You too afraid to kidnap Cap himself?”

“We’re not stupid,” Asshole said.

“Yeah?” _Could’ve fooled me_.

Asshole tucked his knife back in his pocket. He gazed at Bucky and tilted his head. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

“So?”

“ _So_ ,” he leaned in closer, “we aren’t completely incompetent.”

“You really think you can just get Captain America to walk in here and—and what? Let you experiment on him?” Bucky snorted, but his throat was beginning to feel the need for water. “Spoiler alert: he won’t.”

“Oh, he will.”

Bucky blinked. “The fuck does that mean?”

“We aren’t _stupid_. We have a plan.” Asshole left it at that. Which was a disappointment for Bucky, really, because he had half expected a villainous monologue that he’d be able to exploit. But no, all he got was silence.

Which meant that these guys _might_ actually know what they were doing.

That was bad.

Bucky wasn’t well-versed in superhero/supervillain dynamics, but he was well aware that villains who knew how to shut up about their plans were more likely to succeed.

He was beginning to wonder if he was in a worse situation than he had initially thought.

He and Asshole locked eyes for a moment, and the confidence Bucky had in Steve dwindled slightly. Asshole gave him a wink then turned to one of his cronies. “Gag him again. Rogers will be here soon.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky said, just to spite him. That, of course, had no effect.

* * *

Bucky was ninety percent sure it had been at least twenty minutes, but it wasn’t like he had any clock to tell the time.

There was a tiny part of him that was concerned about the fact that Steve was not here yet, but the more rational part of his mind reasoned that the Avengers needed a proper course of action first. They weren’t going to run into battle without a plan of some sort, no matter how urgent. 

So Steve was biding his time. He hadn’t left Bucky to fend for himself. Hopefully.

But on the off chance that they _couldn’t_ come up with a plan, Bucky might have to think of a way to escape on his own.

They hadn’t blindfolded him, but looking around wasn’t an option—not with the guns likely pointed at his head, ready to shoot through him if he made one wrong move.

From all that Bucky could see, he had two possible exits. One was the window behind him that filtered light inside, the other was the door across him. He couldn’t see the window, though, so he had no idea if it was even breakable. He didn’t even know how many people guarded it. It would be suicidal of him to make a run through there.

The door was so much _more_ suicidal, though. Not only were there two armed men next to it, but there were probably a hundred more right outside, ready to take him out at a moment’s notice.

There was also the fact that Bucky was tied to a chair.

The only positive thing he had going for him was the fact that he was still alive. Even if he _did_ run, they would shoot him, but they wouldn’t kill him. Not while they could use his life as leverage.

Would they torture him? It didn’t seem like torture was beyond them.

Two choices, then. He could either make a run for it while tied to a chair (nearly impossible) and end up shot somewhere that may cause him to lose a limb, _or_ he could sit and hope that Captain America had some plan in mind. If he didn’t, then Bucky would still lose a limb. Wonderful.

Not that Bucky thought Steve was incompetent. Steve was very much competent, if his track record said anything. Although he had only known Steve for a while, he was sure that if anyone could be trusted with saving people, it was Steve Rogers.

Bucky slumped back, teeth grinding against the wet cloth gag that had been unceremoniously shoved into his mouth. He glared at the wooden floor.

Waiting it was.

* * *

Whether it had been over an hour yet, Bucky could no longer tell. Sitting around with sore limbs did nothing to help time pass by quickly. His only indication that it wasn’t too late was the fact that said limbs were all still intact.

It was clear, however, that these men were getting impatient. They spoke to each other in a different language—it sounded Slavic. Russian, maybe, but he wasn’t sure. Their words were fast, angry, and said in hushed whispers beneath their masks.

The faint revving of a motorcycle outside filled Bucky with hope. It had been the only sound from the outside world he had heard so far, so it had to be Steve. He _hoped_ it was Steve.

Starbucks Asshole was speaking into his earpiece, and it sounded like orders.

It had to be Steve.

_Please let it be Steve._

There were footsteps outside, echoing in what was probably a narrow hallway. The door swung open, screeching against the floor, hinges squeaking. Steve’s unmistakable muscular shape was right behind it, his hands willingly cuffed in front of him as he leveled Bucky with a minuscule frown. He was clearly trying to contain some emotion. Anger, perhaps.

Steve nodded at him, then glanced at Asshole, recognizing him.

“I’m here now,” Steve said, raising his cuffed hands to make a point. “Let him go.”

“If we don’t?” said Asshole. He was now standing beside Bucky, then he grabbed Bucky by his hair. _Fucking prick._

“Then I walk out. You know damn well I can. You let him go without a fuss, I let you take whatever it is you want. I’ve got no weapons on me, and I’m assuming these aren’t breakable.” He shook the cuffs. “You wouldn’t have put it on me otherwise. So. Let him go.”

“We can just kill him, and you’d still be within our reach.” Bucky closed his eyes, swallowing thickly.

Steve gritted his teeth. “He isn’t important to you. He doesn’t know _anything_ , and he can’t give you anything. You want me, right? Well, here I am. What good is a useless body to dispose of?”

He was right. The men _didn’t_ care about Bucky. _Why would they, if Steve was here?_ They untied Bucky, all the while pressing a gun to his head, the barrel cold and threatening.

“Wait,” Steve said as they prepared to escort Bucky out. “I want to kiss my boyfriend goodbye.”

There was no way for Bucky to hurriedly conceal the shock and confusion that spanned across his face. He looked at Steve with his eyebrows raised, jaw dropped open. All Steve gave him in return was a soft, almost _loving_ , smile.

Steve stepped forward, awkwardly positioning his cuffed arms on Bucky’s left shoulder, right under the gun. His lips hovered over Bucky’s, but it didn’t feel as though he had any intention to actually follow through with the kiss. Much to Bucky’s surprise, Steve’s lips touched his, pressing gently. The feeling of thrill lasted for mere moments. Steve’s arms left Bucky’s shoulder, and he knocked the gun out into the air.

The next thing Bucky heard was a gunshot, then there was a searing pain in his abdomen. It was as though someone had dumped a ton of burning coal on him and let it stay.

“Jesus motherfucking Christ!”

He almost collapsed to the floor, leaning on Steve for support.

Bucky felt himself quickly being spun around and shoved outside the door, slamming straight into the wall across the hallway.

He groaned, clutching at his side. He could feel the blood leaking through his shirt.

“Sorry!” Steve said as a bullet flew past his ear, barely missing. He was aiming his arm at the men, and that was when Bucky realized he was wearing one of Iron Man’s gauntlets.

That was... certainly unexpected. Where had the gauntlet even come from?

Knowing Tony Stark, it was likely some form of nanotech he had lying around. Which was nice. A shield would not have been as inconspicuous.

Bucky, already on the floor, scooted away from the doorway for cover. He chanced a look at the end of the hallway, expecting to be confronted by a thousand more men with guns, to which he thought, _This is the end, I guess_. Surprisingly, there was no one in the hallway.

Well, there _were_ two men at the end, except they were on the floor, probably dead. He could hear guns being fired outside. The rest of the team was here. They weren’t so screwed.

Except… why wasn’t anyone helping Steve?

Bucky crawled across the hallway to sit right next to the door, poking his head in the room to take a peek. It was stupid, considering he could’ve gotten his head shot off, but he really didn’t care at the moment.

Steve had taken out most of the room, but there were four more left. A bullet hit his left shoulder, making him pause with tense shoulders. He shook his head once and shot the man who had fired the gun. He looked like he had the situation completely under control, despite having his hands _cuffed_ and his shoulder bleeding. If he was in as much pain as Bucky was, he certainly didn’t show it.

Bucky wished he could pass out. His wishes never did come true.

Three more left. One of them was Asshole.

Steve fired at one of them, hitting him right in the face.

“You really didn’t think I’d surrender that easily, did you?” Steve asked Asshole. “Did you?”

Steve lifted his hand to fire at Asshole. There was a man standing right behind Steve, his back to the door. He frantically picked up a gun from one of his fallen comrades as Steve fired the gauntlet, sending Asshole flying through the window behind him, feet disappearing last as he fell to his death.

Steve hadn’t noticed the other man.

Bucky picked up a stray gun that was close to him, pulling himself to stand and using the doorway as support.

The first thing Bucky thought was, _Y_ _ou can’t die on me_ , and the next thing, he didn’t even think. He lifted his arm, holding it parallel to the floor, aligned with the man’s own arm. Shaking, he pulled the trigger, aiming straight for the man’s head.

Steve whirled around, startled by the sound. He looked down at himself as though expecting a new wound, but saw instead a still man with a hole through his head.

Bucky watched as the last enemy in the room collapsed to the floor. “Oh my god,” he said, hoarsely. “Oh my god.” There was a pool of blood forming. Bucky caused that. He killed someone. _He killed someone_.

His breathing was getting heavier by the moment, and his vision was beginning to darken at the edges as he leaned on the doorway for support. _Fuck_ , he felt himself muttering, but the voice was distant, as though it wasn’t his own.

Steve took one look at the dead man on the floor before he walked over to Bucky and lifted his cuffed hands to touch Bucky’s cheek. “You’re alright,” Steve said, voice far. Bucky felt like he was underwater. “You’re alright. Don’t look.” He steered Bucky around to the best of his ability. “Come on.”

Bucky collapsed onto Steve, putting his arm around Steve’s waist instead of his shoulder. He managed to sneak one last glance at the man he just killed before clenching his eyes shut and following Steve outside.

Widow was saying something as they walked out, clearly addressing him. None of the words reached Bucky’s ears, but she was likely trying to ask him what the hell he was thinking, running back into the line of fire. _I just killed someone_ was a mantra running through Bucky’s head as people conversed and fought around him.

Steve was leading them to a van. The door slid open and Tony ushered them inside. Bruce held Bucky’s wrist and sat him down on the seat right in front of Steve. He began to treat the wound as best as he could.

It was a long car ride from there.

* * *

He had no choice, Bucky tried to convince himself as he sat in the medical bed in SHIELD. He had gone into surgery a couple hours ago. He wasn’t sure what time it was anymore. If he focused hard enough on the analog clock on the wall, he could probably figure it out (why did SHIELD still use analog clocks?), but he really wasn’t in the mood to.

If he didn’t kill the man, Steve would die.

Steve wasn’t allowed to die. He was... he was an amazing guy who smiled at the smallest things and made Bucky want to say _fuck all professionalism_. Steve wasn’t allowed to die. Not on Bucky’s watch.

Except, Bucky could’ve shot the man in some less fatal area, and it would’ve done the job. If he had tilted it, pointed the muzzle lower, the man would have fallen to his knees, maybe, but he would still be breathing. Perhaps he would’ve bled to death, but Bucky would’ve been able to take comfort in the _maybe_ of that outcome, because he’d be long gone by the time the man had died.

“Bucky?” Steve. That was Steve. Who was inside the room.

Bucky blinked and shook his head, turning toward the door. He didn’t even hear it open. Steve was holding onto the door, his head peeking in, tentative.

“Hey,” Bucky said.

“How are you?” Steve murmured, walking inside and closing the door behind him.

There was a momentary pause, and the thrum of the air conditioner seemed infinitely louder.

Bucky swallowed, limply gesturing at his wound. “Alive, I guess.”

“Right.” Steve pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down, looking at his hands. He wiped them on his bloody jeans. Bucky prepared himself for an awkward slew of questions like _are you alright?_ and _how did they get you?_ or maybe even _did you tell them anything?_ , but instead, all he got was a small, “I’m sorry.”

He gaped. “Huh?”

“I shouldn’t have brought you with me outside the Tower,” Steve said, laughing humorlessly. “I _knew_ there were people out to get me. You shouldn’t have been involved. I’m sorry.”

Steve thought Bucky was mad at him. He was blaming himself when he shouldn’t even be, especially since he _saved Bucky’s life_.

Bucky shifted his head to look at him. He lifted his hand, reaching over the bar to grab Steve’s. He gripped it as tightly as he could. His eyes locked with Steve before his lips quirked up. “I’m a fucking journalist, Steve.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Bucky was quick to interrupt.

“It means I get myself in deep shit to get information. I used to work with VICE and went to fucking Liberia, alright? It’s just... I just...” he took a deep breath. “I never really thought I’d stoop so low to the point of killing someone.” Shame pooled at his gut the moment the words left his mouth, and he soon realized the recklessness of his words. Steve had probably killed ten times more than he, and those deaths probably haunted the back of his mind every day.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered. “That’s not what I meant. Fuck.”

Steve’s jaw was clenched, glaring the floor to death. His next words were hard, struggling to make it past his lips. “Kill or be killed.” Bucky did not reply, he continued. “I killed the people I killed because it’s me or an innocent or them. You killed because you didn’t want me to be killed.” He looked up, eyes lacking the usual softness that they held. “That was why, wasn’t it?”

Bucky nodded mutely. Steve was right.

“Okay. I’m probably not doing much help being here.” Steve got up. “I’ll see you in the Tower.”

He turned to leave, and Bucky reached an arm out to stop him, desperate. He held on tightly, sure that his knuckles were turning white. “I didn’t want to kill him,” he rasped, “but I don’t regret it. You being alive right now. It’s why I don’t regret it.

Steve was staring back at him, mouth slightly parted. “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_.”

Bucky glanced at his hand on Steve’s wrist, looked back up, then let go. Steve wasn’t having it, apparently, because he immediately grabbed Bucky’s wrist instead and held it firm. “I can’t regret killing all those men either. Not if you’re safe. Never.”

Bucky blinked. Steve’s eyes were intense and determined, as though ready to throw down everything he stood for if Bucky was in trouble. That was a lot to take.

“Okay.” Bucky exhaled slowly. “Okay. That’s... that’s... are the church bells ringing? I just—oh, god, I’m using humor to cope. Okay. No. Uh... well, we just confessed we’d kill for each other. That’s a bit fucked up, right?”

Steve shrugged, had a half smile gracing his lips. “All things considered, I think it’s normal.”

“Extenuating circumstances. Right.”

“This might be a bit too much for you to handle, after everything that’s happened in the past two days. You could also be experiencing some sort of... I don’t know what it’s called, but you may think I’m a better person than I actually am because I saved your life.” Steve had a furrow in his brow. “So, please know I don’t expect anything from you—”

Bucky suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at this man’s... _respect_. Who was this respectful of other people these days? Steve Rogers was unreal. “Do you have a phone with you?”

Steve raised his eyebrows, hand already fishing his phone from his pocket. “What? I mean, yeah, why?” he handed Bucky his phone.

“’m just gonna...” Bucky opened the browser and logged his e-mail into it. If this wasn’t going to bury any of Steve’s doubts, he had no idea what will. He opened the file attached under the message he chose and shoved it towards Steve. “One of the most embarrassing things I’ve ever written, but... well, I was drunk. I guess you could say it was my subconscious speaking.”

Steve took the phone back and began to scroll.

“Skip to the third paragraph,” Bucky muttered.

Steve, eyebrows raised uncertainly, began to read the article aloud, embarrassing Bucky more than necessary. “‘The Avengers are funded by Tony Stark, but led by Captain America on the battlefield. Steve Rogers is undoubtedly a fitting leader. He is strategic, commanding, and kind. He knows when it’s time to be funny and charming and when to be the commander that the Avengers need.’”

“‘On the battlefield, Steve is the best Captain there is.’” Steve snorted in disagreement. Bucky punched his arm lightly and urged him to go on. “’He knows the Avengers’ strengths and weaknesses, and he knows where exactly to position them in a fight. But Steve is no dictator, he is willing to listen to the opinions of his teammates, well aware of the fact that he does not know everything.’”

“‘As a person, though, Steve is much better. Despite being a man out of time, he seems to fit right in with this century. He plays cards and _Never Have I Ever—_ clearly a guy who knows how to have fun. Steve is so easy to get along with despite his lack of competence when it comes to eating Chinese food with chopsticks.’” Steve paused, looking up. “Really? My chopsticks skills?”

Bucky laughed despite himself. “It’s an abomination, really.”

“‘These are personality traits that others probably have, but there is something about Steve’s demeanor and the way that he carries himself that makes him a different entity entirely. Perhaps it is because he comes from two different eras, but the man sure knows how to charm everyone to their knees.’”

“’His laugh, especially, is criminal _._ It captures you, captivates you, and you can’t help but get embroiled in it. You join in on his laughter because it’s infectious. His laugh is loud, boisterous, and ever so enthralling. It takes up the whole room, thunders through your ears, and lingers in the air like the cymbals of an orchestra as the music ends. His laugh will make sure you are looking at no one else but him.”

“‘And he is beautiful, at first glance. Yet, unlike most people, his beauty does not deteriorate as time trudges on. In fact, it seems to shine brighter and brighter the longer you know him. Steve Rogers is many things, but at the core of it all, he is beautiful inside out.’”

Steve’s face was as red as a tomato. Beautiful, but a tomato. He stopped reading for a moment and glanced up. “So... beautiful, huh?”

“My subconscious wrote that,” Bucky shrugged. His faux nonchalance did nothing to subside the burning he felt in his cheeks. “Point is, I didn’t fall for you just because you busted into an apartment and kicked everyone’s ass to save mine. I mean, I guess it played some part, but I had a thing for you even before then. Didn’t really acknowledge it, but...” He gestured helplessly at the article. How was he so blind to his own feelings, honestly? It had stared at him right in his face, and it took him so long to realize it.

“So, if I—” Steve gestured between the two of them. “Now. You wouldn’t mind?”

Bucky laughed, covering his mouth. “I should probably brush my teeth first, to be honest. My breath probably smells like shit.”

“Wouldn’t turn me off, though.”

“Oh, god, no, stop,” Bucky groaned, still amused. He pushed Steve away playfully. “Get the doctor to discharge me first.”

“But you still need a psych eval—"

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Toothbrush. Kiss. Food. Then psych whenever. You got a deal?”

“You’re gonna be a tough man to date, Barnes,” Steve joked. Then paused. “I mean, uh, we don’t have to if you—”

“Is that what you want? Dating?” Later, Bucky would debate the complications of dating a public figure and national icon. Now, he just wanted Steve.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out since I saved you in the subway,” Steve admitted, standing up. “So, yeah. I guess.”

“Now I feel like a damsel in distress. Always saving me.” Bucky reached up and stroked Steve’s cheek. He smiled. “Prince Charming.”

Steve laughed, giving Bucky a teasing wink. “Always gonna save Princess James.”

 _The nerve._ Bucky’s hand immediately flopped onto his bed as he scowled. “See if I give you a kiss after that.”

“Aw, c’mon—”

“I was being romantic!”

“You would’ve made the same joke—”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You would’ve—

“Nope. Shut up. I ain’t kissing you anymore.” He folded his arms like he was throwing a tantrum, and Steve could barely hold in his laugher. “I changed my mind.”

As if unable to help it, Steve leaned forward and kissed him, his lips pressing against Bucky’s chapped ones to give a soft peck. Steve smiled a bit then drew back. They stared at each other for a moment, captivated. And just to tease Bucky a little more, he wrinkled his nose and said: “You do smell like shit.”

Just like that, the spell was broken, and Bucky was hurling a pillow at Steve.

“I am _never_ waxing poetic about you again!” Bucky yelled as Steve turned to leave. “You’re an asshole!” The door opened and he screamed even louder. “Do you all hear that? Captain America is an asshole!”

Steve chuckled and closed the door. Bucky was left alone with his thoughts, and the lingering feeling of Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters! Let me know your thoughts :)


	5. Bucky is NOT Getting On That Wheelchair, Steve

**_May 12, 2012 - Day 15, Night_ **

Bucky didn’t know how, and he honestly didn’t want to know why, but there were pictures of the whole fiasco that leaked to the media. (Yes, he was technically the media too. No, he was not amused.)

Steve had been kind enough to go back to the Tower and grab Bucky’s cellphone for him. The moment the cellphone was in Bucky’s hands, he knew. With the way that his notifications were blowing up from the 78 missed calls from Sam, the numerous _mate, the fuck??_ texts from Killian, and messages from co-workers he barely even knew, Bucky knew pictures were leaked. Fucking press.

“Everything alright?” Steve asked, concerned. Bucky’s mind was still spinning from the events of the day. From the kidnapping, to getting shot, to him shooting, then to Steve. _Steve_. Steve. Steve had kissed him. Steve wanted to date him. Bucky had killed someone. Bucky almost died. Steve wanted him. Too much had happened today. Way too much.

Bucky let himself drop unceremoniously back onto his pillows. He winced, almost jealous of Steve’s _lack_ of bullet wounds and oh, how he wished he had some super soldier serum right now.

He shook his head, unlocking his phone.

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered as he looked at the censored photo that Killian had sent; a photo he likely got from the gossip website. “Fuck.”

**_Killian:_ ** _Regina might send a stand in for you. You should go home, mate._

He threw his head back. “Fuuuck.”

“That’s a lot of fucks,” Steve muttered, sitting down on the chair next to the crummy bed. “What happened?”

“Press.”

Steve was on his feet. “I’m calling Pepper.”

“Steve, no, just—” Bucky closed his eyes. “It’s fine. It’s out. Nothing we can do about it.”

“Is the press even _allowed_ to take those photos?”

“Censored. Blurred. Whatever. I’m still recognizable by my friends, though.” Bucky opened his chat with Sam, typing out a _I’m fine_. He did the same to Killian. The others, he didn’t really care about. As he typed, he said, “Killian’s saying Regina’s taking me off your piece.”

“Wait, what?”

“I mean,” Bucky looked up, meeting Steve’s eyes, “I hope she doesn’t, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. From our fake dating rumors—”

“Not fake anymore,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “—from our _previously_ fake dating rumors to me getting _kidnapped_ , this really isn’t a good image for _NYT_. Or for me. Plus, if we tell the public we’re dating—I don’t know if we ever will, but just an _if_ —then, they won’t trust whatever the fuck I write in the article.”

“I think it’s too soon to decide if we’ll make it public.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s not the point, though.” Bucky pursed his lips as his phone began to vibrate. “Hang on, I’ll just take this.” He put the phone to his ear, sending Steve a reassuring smile as Sam’s voice blasted through his speakers. “Jesus, can you tone it down?”

“ _What the fuck happened, man?_ ”

“You know, a man doesn’t appreciate getting yelled at after he was shot.”

Sam paused, and then, as if Bucky accidentally pulled a lever, the dam exploded, and he was facing an endless tirade of expletives and haranguing from his best friend. “ _Remember when you went to Liberia, and I told you you were stupid as fuck? Then you told me ‘Relax, it’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m going to get shot.’ And I believed you. And I thought to myself ‘You know what? Fine. Let Bucky do his thing. It’s what he loves.’ Then you came back fine, but you kept getting yourself into deep shit. You went to that place in Mexico—you know the one—and I thought for sure you were gonna get yourself killed. You kept coming back every god damn time with an article and a winning smile and I thought, ‘hey, maybe he’s fucking immune or some shit’. Then you get assigned this job and I thought you finally got a tame assignment. Then you go. And get. Yourself. Shot.”_

Steve and Bucky stared at each other, wide-eyed. Steve had obviously heard Sam’s outburst, what with how loud it was.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Sam—”

Deep breath. “ _Are you okay now?”_

“Yeah. Yeah. Steve—” Bucky swallowed. “Steve saved me.”

_“I saw.”_

_Will you tell him_? Steve mouthed. Bucky shrugged. Now was as good a time as any, he supposed.

“Sam.”

_“Yeah?”_

“Steve and I are... we’re dating.”

Another deep, but unsurprised, breath. _“Is he gonna make sure you don’t get your ass kidnapped again?”_

Bucky pulled the phone away from his ear and addressed Steve. “Sam wants to know if you’re going to make sure I don’t get kidnapped again.”

“I’ll do my best,” Steve said, leaning over to speak directly into the microphone.

 _“Good_ ,” said Sam when Bucky put the phone back to his ear. _“He better make sure of it or I’m fucking him up.”_

Bucky smiled. “I doubt you can even get a punch in.”

_“Try me, Barnes.”_

“Nah, I’ll let you do your thing.”

_“Seriously, though. We need to meet up soon, gotta make sure you’re alright.”_

“When I’m discharged, we can probably come up with something.” Bucky nodded, mostly to himself. “I miss you, man.”

Sam sighed. “ _Yeah, we should. I’m still in Tokyo, though. I’ll be back in around a month_.”

“Guess I’ll see you then.”

 _“Call me later, alright? Meeting’s about to start, I gotta go_.”

“Yeah... yeah, okay. I will. Bye.”

The call ended and Bucky dropped his phone on the bed. He gave Steve a mournful look. “I have to talk to my boss.”

Steve wrinkled his nose and shook his head, blond hair flopping around. “You can talk to her tomorrow. It’s been a rough day, Buck. Might wanna get some rest first.”

“How long ‘till they discharge me?”

“Three days, at least.”

“Well, then I have three days to avoid Regina, I guess.” He sighed. The longer he would stay here, the more time he had to get caught up in his own thoughts, then the guilt would eat him up, maybe, and then... then... fuck. This was fucked up. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah...” Steve’s eyebrows were furrowed, obviously showing he was deep in thought. He was jiggling his knee in a manner so unlike him. “Is it, uh,” his tongue poked out for a second, “Is it weird if I stay? To sleep here, I mean. If you aren’t comfortable with it, I can go—”

“You can stay,” Bucky blurted out. “It’s fine. If you want to stay, you can stay.”

Steve perked up at that, his face brightening, and a smile formed on his face. He was beautiful. “I’ll stay on the couch, then.”

Bucky wanted to ask for a cuddle, but he figured it was too early for that. Hospital beds weren’t that comfortable anyway. “Yeah, the couch is fine.”

* * *

**_May 15, 2012 - Day 18_ **

“No.”

“Buck—”

Bucky glared at the offensive wheelchair sitting by the edge of his bed. Steve had a hand on its handles, looking ready to cart Bucky off. “No. I’m perfectly capable of walking.”

“But the doctor said—”

“I can walk,” said Bucky, already planting his feet on the floor. Steve moved closer to guide him but he held up a hand and stood up on his own. He was capable, thank you very much. His abdomen still hurt, a dull, throbbing pain on his side, but it wasn’t bad enough to render him incapable of movement.

Steve had his eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure?”

Bucky patted his cheek and nodded, already walking towards the door.

Steve’s hand was hovering beside him, not quite touching. Bucky didn’t know if he’d prefer it that way or if he’d rather hold Steve.

They made it about four doors away from Bucky’s room before he finally stopped to lean on the wall, already exhausted. “Steve?” he said, closing his eyes. “I’m tired.”

Steve sighed, bending down.

“What—” before Bucky could even process what was happening, he was being lifted into the air, bridal style. Steve was taking extra precautions not to jostle him too much or hit the wound, and Bucky found himself clinging to Steve’s neck, eyes wide. “What the fuck!”

There was a small smile playing on Steve’s lips. Bastard. “Well, you didn’t want to take the wheelchair.”

“This is so fucking embarrassing,” Bucky said. He buried his face in Steve’s chest, avoiding the looks that several agents were giving them. They were in a high security area and he was being carried bridal style by his boyfriend, who also happened to be Captain America. Of _course_ people would be staring.

Steve pressed the elevator button with his ass. “Take the wheelchair next time.”

“I could’ve reached that button, you know?”

“You’re hanging on for dear life.”

“True.”

As Steve stepped into the elevator, Bucky snorted. “We spend a lot of time in elevators, don’t we?”

Steve smiled, and there was an unmistakable hint of a blush rising to the tips of his ears. His ears turned red when he was embarrassed. Cute. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

Wait. Why _was_ he embarrassed?

Bucky squinted at him. “Were you... were you doing that on _purpose_?”

“No.”

“You were!”

Oh, Steve was _red_ now. “I’m going to drop you on the floor.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Steve glanced down at Bucky and rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately.”

Bucky didn’t know if he was supposed to be offended or not. He laughed anyway.

There were no awkward run-ins during the elevator ride, and they didn’t run into a single Avenger as they reached the psychiatrist’s office. Bucky figured the Avengers were busy, but then, if that were the case, he’d feel guilty about Steve sticking around for him. So, he decided not to think about it, shoving it in the back of his mind.

Steve knocked on the door with his foot, and a faint voice could be heard past the door, telling them to come in.

Bucky and Steve shared a look, to which Bucky raised an eyebrow and pointed his head toward the door handle. “You gonna open that with your ass?”

“Want me to?”

“You know you can put me down, right?”

Steve grinned. He turned around, still holding Bucky firmly as he tried to push the handle down to open it. It took a bit of awkward maneuvering (Bucky _almost_ slipped off), but the door was successfully opened.

Bucky whistled. “Color me impressed.”

“I just opened a door, Buck.”

“Stop calling me Buck.”

“Not gonna stop, Buck.” And really, Steve Rogers was a little _shit_ —how was this not public information yet?

* * *

“That bad, huh?” Steve chuckled when he saw the disgruntled look on Bucky’s face as Bucky exited the psychiatrist’s office. Steve was sitting on one of the chairs outside, reading a magazine.

“I was basically just rephrasing the same thing over and over.”

Steve stood, taking Bucky’s hand. “Which was?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t regret anything I did.”

There was a brief, thankful smile before Steve leaned in to kiss Bucky. They stood in the middle of the hallway. “Thank you, Bucky. Really,” Steve said.

Bucky waved it off. “Hey, now that we’re dating, more people might come after me, right?” he joked. At the shocked look on Steve’s face, that was probably not the right thing to say. Before Steve could launch into a guilty monologue, Bucky gripped Steve’s hands tightly. “Sorry. No. I didn’t mean that. It isn’t your fault, okay? If anything happens to me—”

Steve pulled his hand away, frustrated. “I don’t _want_ anything to happen to you!”

Bucky reached out to placate him. “But you’ll protect me, right? And if I’m taken away, you’ll come save me? You’re my knight in shining armor, remember?”

Jaw still clenched, Steve looked away. “Of course I’ll protect you.”

“Then we’ll be fine. No matter what happens, we’ll be fine.” Bucky caught the doubtful look on Steve’s face then relented. “Alright, maybe not completely fine, but we’ll have each other. That counts, right?”

“I guess it does...”

“It definitely does,” Bucky insisted. He linked their hands together again, looked down the hallway, then let go. “Actually, can you carry me again?”

Steve’s mood brightened. “This is why I told you to get on the wheelchair.” Then he picked Bucky up with ease.

“What excuse would I have to touch you, then?”

* * *

Steve managed to wrangle Bucky into a wheelchair once the discharge papers had been signed. Bucky, although unwilling, sat still in the chair as Steve pushed him out.

“For the record, I don’t like this,” Bucky said, looking up at Steve. “Also, my apartment building doesn’t have an elevator. How are you going to take a wheelchair up the stairs.”

They stopped moving at once. Steve blinked at him, confused. “You’re going back home?”

Bucky nodded, slowly. “My boss is likely going to take me off this case, so my job with the Avengers is... well, it’s done.”

Steve pursed his lips, avoiding Bucky’s gaze. He was staring at his shoes as though contemplating all of life’s wonders. “Do you... do you have a roommate?” he asked.

“No?”

“You should stay with me,” Steve said with finality, then blushed a little. “I mean, not... not _permanently_. I know we barely know each other and everything, but maybe you should stay at the Tower, you know?”

“Steve, I know you mean well, but I don’t think Tony would like uninvited guests.”

“It’s _my_ floor. That’s what Tony said. He’ll be happy I’m even acting like I own it.” Steve went around the wheelchair so he was facing Bucky. He knelt down, grasping Bucky’s hands in his. “You can stay with me until you’re healed. Please. I want to know you’ll be okay.”

Bucky hummed. “Most people would call this moving too fast.”

“Most people don’t get kidnapped because of their superhero boyfriend.”

“You have a point.”

Steve smiled a little. “Is that a yes?”

“ _Only_ while I’m injured. After that we date like normal people.” Except they couldn’t really do that—not when paparazzi would be eagerly following them around like a pack of wolves. But, Bucky supposed, they could cross that bridge when they were there. Maybe by using some really cool disguises.

The answer seemed to satiate Steve enough. He kissed Bucky’s left hand then stood up, brushing at his pants. “Have you actually talked to your boss yet?”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. He’d been trying to avoid _that_ particular conversation. But he knew he had to have it some time. “I’ll do it in the car.”

Five minutes later, he was sitting in the car, leaning on Steve’s chest as he complained about not wanting to give his boss a call. “She’ll want to hear an explanation,” he whined. “Do I tell her about us?”

Steve stroked his back. “If you’re sure she won’t rat it out to the public, it’s fine.” He paused. “Is it going to bother you if they take you off the story?”

“I’ve never been taken off a story before, but... well, first time for everything, right?” Bucky shrugged. “I can write my own account of living with the Avengers, but I’ll never be able to objectively assess your abilities. Not without being biased towards you, of course.”

Steve smiled. “Biased, huh?”

“Of course, you idiot.” Bucky sighed. “How long ‘till we get to the Tower?”

Steve looked out the window. “Fifteen minutes or so.”

“Guess that’s enough time to rip off the band-aid,” Bucky mumbled, dialing Regina’s number. The first four rings were agonizing before she finally picked up.

“ _Barnes!_ ” she exclaimed, not really sounding mad. “ _I’ve been trying to reach you for the past few days_.”

“I was...” Bucky glanced at Steve, “otherwise occupied?” Steve snorted, and Bucky saw it fit to smack his arm for laughing. “Sorry. I’ve been in the hospital since the incident.”

“ _Listen, Barnes, I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes so I don’t have time to talk through everything in detail. I’ve had a conversation with the higher-ups about your situation. You’ll be given paid leave until you’re ready to come back to work._ ”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Well, thanks for that.”

“ _Do you still want to continue working on the Avengers assignment once you’ve recovered or do you want me to find someone else?_ ”

Bucky hesitated, looking at Steve. He bit his lip as he thought through his options, and finally went with his gut and said: “Sorry, ma’am, I don’t think I can write the article for that. I’m... a little biased.”

There was a confused pause and then: “ _What?_ ”

“Steve Rogers and I are dating?” he announced meekly. “Surprise?”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Bucky was sure he was about to get the third degree. Before Regina could unleash her fury, though, Steve was taking the phone from Bucky and pressing it to his ear.

“Hi, ma’am, this is Steve Rogers. I just want to say that... I know this situation isn’t ideal, but, rest assured, _The New York Times_ will still be able to get that article. Maybe you can send someone else?” Steve waited as Regina said something then he turned red. “No, I will not be flirting with the new journalist you send out here. No one in the Avengers will, I promise.”

Bucky laughed a little too loud. Steve glared at him.

“Yes, ma’am, I understand. You can contact Pepper Potts for the rescheduling. Perhaps in a few months once this fiasco blows over. Yes. Thank you.” Steve nodded. “Okay, here he is.” He handed the phone back to Bucky.

Bucky mouthed _what_ , but Steve just ignored him, waving his hand at the phone.

“Hi, again,” Bucky said, wincing.

“ _Captain America is your boyfriend, Barnes?_ ”

Bucky smiled sheepishly even if she could not see him. “Sorry?”

She sighed. “ _Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. But I do hope you don’t make a habit of this in your next assignments_.”

Bucky held Steve’s hand, smirking. “Probably not. Steve’s one of a kind.”

“ _I hope to see you back to work soon_.”

“You can count on it, ma’am,” he said, then bid his goodbyes.

Steve was smiling at him right up until they pulled into Stark Tower. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”

“She ripped you a new one, didn’t she?”

He grimaced. “She can be a little terrifying.”

Bucky patted his shoulder. “Better you than me.”

“You are the worst boyfriend ever.”

* * *

**_May 19, 2012 - Day 22_ **

Bucky was able to move around a little more. He hadn’t left the Tower since they arrived, but he could at least get from Steve’s room to the kitchen with less effort.

He’d been sleeping in Steve’s room for the past few days, but he wasn’t sleeping _with_ Steve. He wasn’t sure if their relationship was up to that point yet, but it didn’t bother him much. It would happen when it did. Plus, Bucky wasn’t really in any shape to have sex just yet.

Steve was out buying lunch because Bucky had mentioned he was craving Japanese. He told Steve he didn’t _have_ to get Japanese, but Steve was already halfway out the door and didn’t seem eager to listen to any of Bucky’s protests.

There was a familiar ding of the elevator door, and Bucky smiled, still lying in bed. “Stevie!” he called out, sitting up.

To his surprise, Steve did not appear. Instead, Widow was entering the room looking a little uneasy. She stood by the doorway, looked around, then walked closer to Bucky.

“My name is Natasha Romanov,” she said, pulling a chair over so she could sit next to him. Bucky blinked, not knowing what to say. He didn’t even know what she wanted him to say. At his expression, her lips quirked a little. “Clint’s last name is Barton. I’ve been authorized to tell you that.”

Bucky nodded unsurely. “Okay?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to be around for a long time. So I thought it would be nice if we got to know each other. Or, at least, you get to know me. I already know a lot about you.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” Bucky muttered. He extended his hand. “Guess we’re friends, then, Natasha?”

Natasha smiled, shaking his hand. “I guess so, James.”

Bucky let his hand drop on the bed, crumpling the sheets under his fingers mindlessly. “What do the others think of... me... with Steve?”

She laughed, amused and delighted. “If you think any of us are shocked, then you clearly haven’t been paying attention. A lot of us—Clint and Tony, especially—have been trying to get you two together.”

“What?” Bucky said.

She patted his cheek like this was the best thing she had ever heard. “You really don’t think Steve could’ve planned the elevator meetings or dinner date all by himself, did you?”

He gaped at her. “You all _knew?!_ ”

She nodded, standing. “And so did the rest of the world, technically.”

“Well, the rest of the world only has rumors. You guys... you guys _knew_.”

“Well—”

“Nat—wait, no, Widow?”

That was Steve.

Bucky shifted a little on the bed so he could see Steve standing by the doorway, paper bag in hand. Natasha turned, too, smirking.

“Hello, Steve,” she grinned. “It’s alright, I told James my name.”

Steve eyed her suspiciously, walking inside with the slow prowl of a predator. “What are you doing here?”

“We were just talking about you, actually.” Natasha gave him a small hug. “Well, I’ll leave you boys to it.” She looked back at Bucky. “James, if you want to know more embarrassing stories about Steve, come by my floor some time.”

Once Natasha was gone, Steve stared at Bucky, eyebrows raised as he waited for an answer. Bucky shrugged, burying himself further into the comforters. “You can’t question an injured man.”

Steve rolled his eyes, climbing onto the bed. “So _now_ you’re injured, but two days ago when you wanted to go bowling, you were perfectly fine.”

“The pain comes and goes,” Bucky said innocently, fluttering his eyelashes for maximum effect. This only made Steve laugh, almost sending him over the bed.

“Never flutter your lashes like that again,” Steve said between tears and laughter.

“What do you mean?” Bucky crossed his arms. “Like this?” And he did it again.

Steve laughed even more, setting the paper bag down. He grinned, shuffling around until he was leaning over Bucky and kissing him. “God, you’re cute. That was horrible.”

“Made you smile, didn’t it?” Bucky kissed him once more. “Now, where’s that food I was promised?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE CHAPTER! Really glad for those who have stuck out this far!! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated :) <3


	6. The New Guy

**_Five Months Later_ **

Bucky and Sam watched in fascination as Tony showed him the newly upgraded Iron Man suit. Rather than having to be near the suit to wear it, he could now call it on command.

“Holy shit, dude,” Sam said as parts flew around the lab. A few weeks after Steve and Bucky had started dating, Sam came back from Japan and Bucky introduced him to the rest of the team. They all—Natasha, especially—took a quick liking to him, and he was now considered a friend of the Avengers too. Though he didn’t live in the Tower, he came quite often.

Bucky, on the other hand, never moved back to his apartment despite his initial intentions. He continued to live with Steve in the Tower even after he was healed, and it was _great_.

“That’s amazing,” Bucky said just as the suit finished assembling around Tony, “You’ve got to make me one of those!”

Tony waved his gauntlet in the air. “Pretty cool, huh? I can show you the schematics, if you’re interested.”

“I’ve got a degree in engineering, so I’m down,” Sam said, leaning forward.

Bucky grinned. “Well, I’ll try my best to understand. I got a five in AP Physics before.”

Although Tony’s face wasn’t visible, Bucky could imagine the roll of eyes behind the helmet. “You’ll need a bit more knowledge than that, but I guess it’s a start.”

“This was great, man,” Sam said, getting up from the chair. He looked at Bucky. “I’ve got to go.”

“Yeah, sure.” Bucky nodded, ushering him away. Sam’s schedule was really busy, so he understood.

“Wilson!” Tony called out just before Sam. “You coming over for movie night on Friday?”

Sam sent him a thumbs up. “Wouldn’t miss it!”

As soon as the door shut, Tony tapped something on his helmet, and it lifted to reveal his face. “Hey, J? Could you turn down the music?”

The volume lowered so significantly that one had to strain to hear it. Bucky spun a little on his chair. “I think that’s the first time I ever heard you say that.”

Tony took his helmet off completely. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about the public.”

“Ah.”

Two weeks ago, Steve and Bucky had officially made their relationship public. It had gotten a very divided reaction, but, most importantly, Bucky could barely go anywhere without someone coming up to him and asking questions. His boss had even decided he should work from home first until the public’s frenzy died down.

Bucky shrugged, playing with the screwdriver. “They’ll get sick of us eventually, right?”

“From my experience, it could take a while. You two doing okay?”

“Well, _we’re_ fine.” Bucky was pretty sure not much could separate him and Steve, if there even _was_ anything at all. “It’s just really hard to go out.”

Tony pursed his lips. “I’d like to say that one of these days, people will realize your privacy’s none of their business, but... well, this is the way it’s been for ages, so you just gotta deal with it until they move on to the next piece of gossip.”

“They better move on fast because Steve almost grabbed a pap’s camera one time.”

Tony waved his hand in the air. “I can pay for it if they sue.”

Bucky chuckled a bit. “Thanks.”

There was a knock on the door, and Natasha was standing on the other side, hand on her hip. She motioned for Bucky to come.

“Well, see you later,” Bucky said to Tony, giving a small salute before he exited the lab. “What’s up?” he asked her.

She sighed. “The new guy’s coming here today, remember?”

“New—oh! Yeah, I know. Pepper told me last week.”

Natasha nodded, pressing _down_ on the elevator. “Steve’s in the gym. We just got back from an absolute shit show in Sokovia. Pepper and I are trying to get the team presentable in the next...” she checked her watch, “hour or so. And you know how Steve is when he’s in the gym.”

These days, Bucky was the only one who could get anywhere near Steve when he was taking his frustration out on the punching bags. Anyone else who would try to come near would risk suffering the same fate as the bags too—not that anyone ever dared to try.

“I’ll get him,” Bucky said as the doors opened to the gym. Natasha gave him a curt nod, closing the elevator.

Steve was, expectedly, decimating the punching bags. From afar, Bucky could see a hint of blood on Steve’s knuckles. Rarely did Steve ever bleed from using the bags, so this must’ve been a really bad mission.

“Stevie,” Bucky said, soft and careful. He made sure he was within Steve’s line of sight. Approaching from behind did not yield pleasant results. “Hey.”

Steve grunted, muttering something under his breath as he held the bag still, staring at Bucky. “Not now, Buck.”

“You’re bleeding.” Bucky approached him faster this time, grabbing Steve’s hands before they could go back to punching.

Steve clenched his jaw. “It’ll heal.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not now.”

Bucky nodded. Sometimes it took weeks before Steve was able to open up about a mission. Whenever Steve felt prepared to tell Bucky, Bucky was always waiting understandingly.

“Tell you what,” he kissed Steve’s cheek, “you go get dressed so we can meet the newbie, and then... we can get to bed...” he kissed the other cheek. “...and maybe get to know each other even more?”

Steve laughed faintly. “You know, a few months ago, _you_ were the newbie.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “Has it only been a few months? It feels like it’s been years.”

Steve’s smile was a little more gleeful now. “All that getting-to-know-each-other stuff has probably muddled your brain.”

“How highly do you think of yourself, Captain?” Bucky asked, not exactly talking to Steve.

There was a bark of that beautiful laugh and Steve was shoving Bucky away. “Not now, Buck, we gotta make ourselves presentable, remember?”

“Right. I don’t want to suffer the wrath of Natasha and Pepper.”

“The two worst people you could piss off,” Steve said. He pushed Bucky towards the elevator. “Though maybe we can make some time for it in the shower?”

“I mean... we _do_ have a couple of minutes, don’t we?” Bucky grinned, hurriedly pressing the button to the elevator. “JARVIS, hurry up!”

* * *

Steve and Bucky stumbled out of the elevator to the communal floor an hour and ten minutes later. Bucky’s hair was still wet, and Steve’s shirt was inside out. Bucky laughed at him, tugging at the shirt to tell Steve about the mistake.

“You are late,” Pepper said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Tony got here before you.”

In fact, Tony _was_ there, looking so put together that no one would’ve ever assumed he had just spent the last 72 hours with no sleep while he was surrounded by metal, grease, and rock n’ roll.

“You had an hour to get ready,” Natasha said, unimpressed.

Bucky gave them both a sheepish smile. “You know how Steve’s refractory period gets,” he said, even though they obviously _didn’t_ know.

Steve whacked his arm. “Bucky!”

“I truly apologize, Mr. Parker,” Pepper said. The unfamiliar name finally made Bucky look away from Steve and towards the new guy who was awkwardly standing by the elevator, luggage next to him. It was exactly like Bucky was a couple months ago.

“Do you work under Regina too?” Bucky asked the new guy. “You look pretty young.”

Parker blinked at him and then seemed to realize he was being addressed because he nearly jumped out his skin. “No! No,” he stammered, “I work under Jones. I’m not new to... journalism... but this is my first assignment for _The New York Times_. I’m a big fan of your work, Mr. Barnes. Really good stuff.”

“Really good stuff,” Bucky said with a laugh.

“Bucky,” Pepper sighed, exasperated.

Steve grinned, extending a hand out towards Parker. “Hi, I’m Steve.”

“Uh—Peter. Parker,” said the guy—Peter—as he shook Steve’s hand, looking a little too much in awe. Was Bucky this nervous back then? He couldn’t really recall it.

“These are Clint, Tony, Bruce, Thor, and Widow,” Steve said, pointing at each member one by one. “Widow obviously isn’t her real name, but she doesn’t feel too comfortable about letting any media know her real name.”

“Does Mr. Barnes know it?” Peter asked, then promptly looked horrified at the words he said. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, Bucky knows it,” Steve smiled, sending a fond look Bucky’s way. “He’s not just a journalist to us. He’s family too.”

Bucky grinned, standing next to Steve and giving his boyfriend a brief kiss. “This big lug is a sap.” He put his hand out and shook Peter’s hand too. “Bucky Barnes. Nice to meet you. I’m excited to see what you’ve got to write about this band of misfits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand that's a wrap!
> 
> Again, thank you to [amethystkrystal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amethystkrystal) for the [trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wj07C2TmY3M) and to [waitforhightide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitforhightide) for beta reading this fic!
> 
> ALSO, if you like my writing, I'm going to be posting a (angstier) stucky ballet au on January (it's around 50k!), so be sure to check it out (I'll link it here when I've posted it). Love you guys! Thanks so much for reading this fic <3
> 
> Join me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/wintersabbath) to scream about... well, anything


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